


//_charm measured in units

by derekstilinski



Series: //parameters_AU [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: December 2040. Months after the recovery of Connor's memories, he's been seeing things in a new light. Nines has always been one of his biggest comforts and supports, and holding him close has always been important. Things shifted between them when the accident occurred, and Connor feels compelled to reach out for him further.The Nines-loving spinoff to the //_parameters AU.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson/Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: //parameters_AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396780
Comments: 35
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 🎄 Happy Holidays, everyone!! I'm finally back with another piece of this AU.
> 
> I had some calling for more about Nines (still feeling the warm fuzzies that everyone really loved how I wrote Nines, thanks 😭💕), and I realized in //_parameters that I basically wrote him quietly in love with Connor. So, it spawned this spinoff!  
> Thanks to everyone for being so patient, I could've kept working on this for months more but I wanted to share it for Christmas. The feeling on this one is probably different than the first in this series, because they're written so far apart, but I hope it feels good regardless 💕

December 17th, 2040.

Snow already on the ground, but thankfully not enough to force the use of Connor's work boots. However, it still leaves him feeling a chill every time someone enters and leaves the precinct. The air gets to him somehow and even the little space heater Hank's set up at his desk doesn't always stop the equivalent of goosebumps. He's valiantly pushing past it, having accepted he didn't bring a sweater, as he sifts through files manually on his terminal. He has another hour left on his shift and peeking over at Hank, he knows they'll be relaxing after.

Another trickle of cool air finds its way to Connor’s desk again and through the fibers of his shirt. He suppresses a shiver. But he's warmed by who walks through the archway, bundled up and holding a tray of coffees. Nines is taking the season in stride, saying it happily reminds him of when he was activated. They remind him he has another birthday party coming next month. He thinks it's funny he gets one every time.

Seeing Connor, his face brightens that small degree that makes Connor so happy. He immediately deviates his path to come around Connor's desk, setting down the coffees to work one from the tray. “Good afternoon, eight-hundred. How are you?”

“Feeling good, if cold. How are you? How was your morning?” Connor smiles as one cup is pushed towards him, “Oh. Thank you.”

“Decaffeinated double mocha with peppermint.” Nines tells him, shucking off his coats here. Connor looks at him oddly as they're laid over his lap and Nines pulls his knit sweater over his head. It rumples his hair but he pays it no mind, pushing the sweater into Connor's hands. “Please, don't be cold… My morning was fine. I saw a cat. She had eyes like yours.”

Connor blinks up at him, hands getting warm folded in Nines’ sweater. He’s been keeping his temperature up, Connor can tell. Nines collects his coats and the other coffees before he dips to give a kiss near the stray curl on Connor’s temple, something he’s taken to doing for a few months. Connor catches him before he can get away, smoothing his hair back into place with careful hands. It seems the least he can do. Nines freezes for a moment when Connor's fingers are in his hair, a gentle blue flushing up on his cheeks the longer Connor fusses with him. He stands there slightly crouched and lets Connor have his way. He says a soft “thank you” before moving to Hank's desk.

He drops off another coffee and Hank pats him on the cheek as he fawns over the drink, talking about how it’s perfectly how he likes it and Nines is so good to him. Nines makes an effort to give Hank a smile.

The other coffees go to Chris and Gavin, who both share a few words with him. Chris gestures lightly to Nines’ flushed face with a happy smile and Nines’ spine straightens immediately, shaking his head as he replies quickly. Gavin thanks him, eyes lingering as Nines runs down what his schedule is today and where Gavin can ask for his help within that. Then he heads up to the Captain’s office to trade a banana-strawberry cinnamon muffin for his assignments of the day.

Connor watches him with fondness, slipping the sweater over his head. It's warm and soft, the close cropped neck a very Nines choice. It feels good. He isn't cold even when he and Hank leave the station.

There’s a side process he’s taken to running for the last few weeks, and pulls it up again while the snow blanketed world goes by in the car. He thinks on Nines’ behavior since the accident, the way he’s steadily gotten closer physically and emotionally. Nines has offered him plenty of love and care before, in many forms. Their strong connection, the way they share with each other. The big stomach upgrade they got together; he remembers holding Nines’ hand as they laid on surgical tables in a low-grade stasis. The way Nines picked up cooking because of he and Hank. The simulations they cultivate and how safe he always feels with him, the support Nines gives even if he doesn’t always understand.

Not to mention when Connor was injured. He keeps feeling Nines’ care enveloping him, more than ever before. He brings it up while Hank is still driving them home. “Hank. Have you noticed Nines?”

“I… always notice Nines?” Hank tries, glancing over at him. Connor huffs lightly and shifts in his seat, and it's a few long moments before Hank tries again, “What do you mean, honey? Is something wrong with Nines?”

“No, it's not wrong. It's…” Connor thinks for a moment, kneading the hem of Nines’ sweater between his fingers. “He cares, very much.”

“‘Course he cares about you. You're his favorite person in the world.” Hank’s smile is a little confused, like he’s wondering why Connor is stating an obvious good thing with such concern.

“That's not what I mean.” he doesn't intend for it to sound harsh. Hank's smile falls away and it's quiet for the rest of the drive. He thinks maybe he should keep this to himself, but immediately thinks that's not very fair. If he's right. If he's right, it's not fair at all.

Hank parks them in the driveway but doesn't shut off the car. Instead he unbuckles and turns himself towards the passenger side, giving a soft sigh. “Okay. What do you mean, then? Help me understand.”

“I'm sorry.” He starts, shaking his head as he mirrors Hank's posture.

“It's okay. Come on, now.” Hank reaches out and offers his hand, Connor takes it. “Tell me about Nines. Do you not like that he cares about you? I know when you were sick you had trouble with him.”

Connor sighs. “It wasn't so much as trouble, but worry. I didn't want him to risk himself to help me. I've been thinking about that a lot.” He stares at their hands, the little wrinkles forming on the back of Hank's hand. He runs his thumb over them. 

“When I lost my memory, I saw things from fresh eyes. I noticed how big our bed was when I hadn't noticed before, for example. Or better, how you touched me while trying to be friendly.” he says, “Looking back, I can plainly see it was you wanting to hold me again, in ways you knew you couldn't.”

Hank nods, looking a little far away and worn as he remembers just a few months back. “I just kept telling myself to be there for you, 'but shit— not that much, don't push'.”

“You were a gentleman, I thought I was projecting onto you with our closeness.” Connor soothes, looking up at him. Hank snorts, shaking his head. It makes him smile, just a little, before his thoughts submerge him again, “But. Like that, I also see Nines. Hank, during the accident, he… it wasn't said, but…”

His throat closes up unexpectedly. He feels the emotion just as deeply as if he were there.

“What? Connor.” Hank coaxes, other hand coming up to rub over his knuckles. Connor's eyes are far away.

“It was more, a feeling. And it was one of the last things I felt, before everything… it's seared into me. It was like, if he could've taken all of me with him, he would have.” he says, quietly. Like it's a secret. He squeezes Hank's hand, skin coming away, “I wish I could show you, because— because those words don't bring across just how _much_ of a statement that is.”

He searches Hank's face, trying to see if he understands, if he's following Connor's train of thought. He’s frustrated with himself, feeling like he can’t quite reach what he wants to say. “It's… If I could take all you are. All of you, not just your memories. Every tick, every nerve, every synapse and connection that makes up _you_ … and bring you here—” he presses his hand to his chest. Hank's eyes have gotten a little wide, his heart a little fast.

Connor feels his voice creak, “Not even thinking what it would do to me. Not thinking past, ‘Hank Anderson, you are safe here inside of me, where you don't have to worry’. Holding you where I can shield you, _desperately_ . Not thinking of the damage it could do holding you because— because you're already part of me. And keeping you is everything that matters now. Because—" There's upset static and then Nines' voice comes out of his mouth, " _‘I'm part of your unit. You found me. I'm your family’_."

Connor shudders, his hands trying to grasp at the meaning like it can be pulled out for Hank's eyes to see. He heaves a wet sigh. " _That's_ what it is.”

It's silent for what seems like forever, and Connor can't look at him. He doesn't know what he's going to see. Hank's hand cups his cheek, and his voice is like velvet, “I'd do the same damn thing.”

Connor feels his eyes prickle harshly. He leans into the warmth of Hank's hand with a tight sigh, “I don't know what to do… He cares so deeply. He _loves_ , Hank. He's so good to me.”

“He loves you, Con.” Hank leans over to kiss his forehead. The first few tears fall, and he wipes one away before easing back. If Connor's going to cry, he wants to make sure he can comfort him. “Okay. Come on inside, we'll get comfy inside.”

Hank switches off the car and they both move through the slush to get up the steps. They let Sumo out after hellos, thankfully he comes back in after he's done his business, and they all shake the cold from their bodies in tandem. After hanging his coat and leaving his shoes, Hank moves to get Connor some water in the kitchen.

Connor's slower to take off his layers, mind clouded. He's getting himself past the overflow of feeling it took to share the weight in his chest. His mind keeps cycling, focusing on smaller instances between himself and Nines, then Nines and Hank. He stands on the threshold of the kitchen and living room, looking at the strong line of Hank's back, “He's attracted to you.”

Hank snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, all you RKs like me for some reason.” He shuts off the tap and turns, coming to hand Connor the glass. Connor doesn't smile. “ _Shit_. Really? Like, I _know_ we're close. Some androids don't know personal space, and he's got some brain stuff from you, yeah, and I love him to pieces— but I didn't think it was like that, I didn't think _he_ —”

“Hank.” he steadies a hand on Hank's arm, “I don't mind. I say it because I know he loves me too. I'm just… not sure in what way.”

Hank takes a sip of water, thinking he’s a little ill-prepared for the conversation but wants to do his best for Connor’s sake. “You think he loves you like I do, don't lie.”

“I never put him in any category, you know. Some people assume I have. He's not familial in any way more than you are, in a family I found and cherish.” Connor takes the glass, wishing he could already know. He doesn't like not knowing. He looks up at Hank, stomach twisting, “I don't… I don't give speculation because I dislike his potential feelings, Hank.”

Hank follows along, settling his hands on Connor's waist to steady him. Androids have more choice over who’s their family because in reality, no one is. North isn't sister to every Traci, nor are Echo and Ripple. Connor and Nines didn't feel a brotherly bond, so they don't have one. They've just chosen to be family, to be important to each other, like Connor chose Hank and Sumo to be family. Lucky bastards, the whole of them, in Hank's opinion. “Go on, I'm with you.”

Connor has a long drink, and it goes until he drains the glass. Hank's mildly impressed but he knows it's nerves. “Even today, he expressed such easy love to me.”

“Me too.” Hank adds, nodding. He gives Connor a little squeeze.

“Yes, and I returned the affection too. He was so sweet and accommodating to me, like second nature. I guess he wasn’t expecting it back to him, because he went still and started going that handsome blue that he does.” His chest feels so tight. He lets Hank slowly sway him closer. He curls the glass close to his chest and looks down at their socks.

“I keep realizing it in a different light, that he’s been getting closer to us. Opening up, getting softer. A lot of things seem to have different meanings.” He takes a deep breath and it stutters lightly, “My point. If I'm correct, I will feel… a loss that I have not given him as much love as he has given us.”

Hank brings Connor against his chest when he sees the incredible unease and near fear in his lover’s eyes. He rubs Connor's back, understanding with a far off pang of guilt. The memory of he and Nines at Kamski’s kitchen counter comes forefront, the two of them snapping at each other about Connor’s loss, his obliviousness of being romantically loved. Hank with a pit in his stomach over it. Nines could be dealing with the two of them being oblivious right now, and that suddenly crushes him. “Ah, hell. No, I get it. I understand. God, I’ve said some stuff that could lead him on, not thinking…”

“So have I. You and Nines have always felt like home for me, Hank.” He lays his head on Hank's chest, feeling weary. The sweater smells like Nines’ apartment and Hank's cologne mixes so well with it. He wants to cry. “Hank, I'm in love with you.”

Connor pulls away to look at him and Hank meets his gaze with ease. His expression is tender and he rubs up and down Connor’s side. “I know, honey. I'm in love with you, too.”

“I…” Connor hesitates, squeezing Hank's shoulder, “You say you understand. I have to be sure.”

Hank cups his cheek because Connor looks on the verge of tears again, “Hey. Connor, it's _Nines_ we're talking about. I knew from the moment you laid eyes on him, that he was going to be a part of our lives.” Connor shudders in a disbelieving breath and he nods, “And he's been an angel. He's got us both by the strings, honey.”

Connor wraps his arms around Hank tightly, squeezing him to his chest to the point where he hears Hank’s breath wheeze out of him, “I love you. I don't know what I did to get you.”

Hank gets his breath back and buries his face in Connor's neck, “Yes, you do. You broke into my house.” Connor laughs wetly against his hair, squeezing him again. “You wanna change outta our work clothes and cuddle up by the fire like a couple of saps?”

“ _Yes_ , please.”

They take the time to settle in. Connor has a few more stress tears that Hank dabs away with a warm cloth while they’re both at the bathroom sink. The rest of the night ends up peppered with conversation about Nines. Things about him, little quirks. Hank and Connor share things about him to each other through relaxing on the couch, getting takeout delivered, and eating said takeout. 

They talk about how Nines affects them, how he's impacted their lives since he came into the world. Connor talks about the virtual reality programs he and Nines do together, and the bird watching when they want fresh air. Hank listens happily and pings off that about he and Nines playing video games, and Nines learning to crochet from him. Connor didn't even know that last one.

Hank stabs another eggroll with his fork, “Yeah, and he had trouble with it, until I broke it down for him. Made the loops of yarn almost like a number sequence, y'know, and then he was off! Smart cookie… He gave me this big smile, all affectionate.”

“Yes! He does that with you outwardly quite often. He has trouble emoting, but that's not his fault. Every big smile or complex expression is a somewhat conscious effort for him.”

Hank squints, thinking. “I remember you telling me something like that, yeah… He really sees me and thinks to smile, every time?”

“Yes. You make him happy. He knows you're coded to see a smile to convey ‘ _you make me happy’_ , so he's learned to put in the effort to do it, so you know in a way you can immediately understand.”

“Like a command line when I plug you into the computer.” He says, looking proud of himself. He’s a little amused to think of Nines using a smile like that, even though it always works perfectly. It's honestly more considerate than he deserves, he thinks, if they've been this dense.

Connor nods, patting Hank's chest. “I'd say it's similar, yes.”

Hank leans to give him a kiss and he smiles into it, following when he pulls away. Hank shifts him slightly to the side when he wants to drape over his now-full belly. He leans back further into the arm of the couch and runs his fingers through Connor's hair, letting Connor pick the speared eggroll from the takeout carton in his hand, “So, what's our plan on this, honey?”

Connor sighs, watching Hank take a bite while he processes, “I've run some preconstructions. I thought being direct would be the best approach, and some of them ended successfully… but some didn't. In a percentage, Nines became embarrassed and fled, or even upset.” He pushes the fork at Hank again. “And in others, where I played out a longer scenario… he, for lack of a better term, _missed_ what was trying to be conveyed.”

“Con.” Hank pushes the fork at him now, swallowing the bite, “Tell me, just how… direct was ‘direct’ in this preconstruction of yours?”

Connor talks in between chews, stuffing his cheeks. “We walk into the station tomorrow and we go through asking him if he has varying degrees of attraction towards us.”

Hank claps a hand on his shoulder blades, “ _Connor_ , jesus. We can't do that, we'll be cornering the poor guy. No, it's gotta be smoother than that.”

“Nines has displayed that sometimes beating around the bush bores and frustrates him. I don't know what it would be in this situation.” He lays his head on Hank's chest, burying his face away.

“I think it's close to home for you.” Hank rubs his back.

“It _is_ home for me.”

Hank hums and Connor turns his ear to listen to it with the beat of his heart. It's quiet for half a dozen beats before Hank speaks. “What if I took point on this?”

“Mm?” Connor refuses to move.

“Yeah. I'll take care of it. Maybe one of us will get better odds, make him more comfortable. How about that?” His fingers smooth through Connor's hair again, “You trust me to take care of it?”

“I always trust you, Hank.”

Hank feels his heart thump faster, “Then it's settled.”

Connor pushes the rest of the eggroll at him.

It's weird. They both put in a little more effort to look nice when they go into work, in that special way you do when you want to impress. There's anticipation while they have breakfast, nervous and giddy conversation. Connor meticulously warms a packet of Thirium for Nines so it'll be at optimal temperature when they get to the station. He gives it to Hank as they split off with an encouraging thumbs up, after seeing Nines in the break room.

Nines looks like he's making oatmeal. He’s assigned to Tina today first thing, who looks like she's falling asleep into Nines’ coats at her desk. Hank sidles up next to him and grabs himself a cup for coffee, “Morning, Nines. That looks yummy.”

Nines looks delighted to see him - in his own way, LED blinking brighter. “Good morning, Lieutenant. It's not for me, it's for Officer Chen.”

“You're just a peach, aren't you? She looks like she had a late shift.” He holds up the Thirium nestled in his gloved palm, “This is for you, though. It'll keep you warm.”

Nines blinks a few times, then takes the packet. He holds it in both hands when he feels the warmth. Connor must have gotten it just right. “…Thank you. This is very appreciated.”

He shrugs, smiling. “It's from Connor… The sweater yesterday really got to him, hasn't taken the damn thing off yet.” He thinks of Connor last night, refusing to slip out of the sweater even when Hank went down on him. He hopes the wind chill from outside is still on his cheeks instead of from thinking about Connor.

Nines looks over the mountain of Hank's shoulders to where Connor is settling at his desk, turning on his space heater and still wearing all his coats. The sweater is visible. “Oh. I should thank him.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” Hank says, pushing a few buttons for his desired coffee. His attention pulls back on Hank in an instant. Hank grins slowly, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

 _Very considerate of him_ , Nines thinks. “Yes, of course.”

Hank takes a step closer, unbuttoning his bundled up coat as he does. One hand goes on his hip as he swishes the fabric back. “We've been missing you lately, you know that? We want to get closer, have a good time. Do you think… you want to go somewhere with us? Me and Connor?”

Nines looks him over, feels his warmth from here. It's an easy answer. “I would love to.”

Hank's face brightens and he reaches out to gently smooth a wrinkle in Nines’ collar, “Ah, that's great. When do you think we could pick you up?”

“There's no need, Lieutenant. That would be inefficient.” Nines tells him, deciding to return the touch as it's right there and hold Hank's hand. He’s cold but Nines is very warm, keeping his heat up during the day. “I will arrive at your home this evening. We could play our game together.”

That isn’t what he had in mind. He thought they’d do dinner, or bowling— that new set of retro lanes that just opened has Hank’s name written all over them. Both RKs could laugh at him for loving the god awful carpet and he’d be excited to cheer them on when they hit precise strikes. He thinks maybe he can steer back towards actual date territory, and starts to work up to do it. But then Nines lets him go, to collect Tina’s oatmeal. His mouth works to try and correct where they went off course but then Nines smiles at him, and he thinks of all the effort Connor says he puts in. Ah, hell. 

“I'm very glad you asked me, Hank.”

_Ah, hell._

Hank collects his coffee and shuffles to his desk, feeling like he accomplished _something_ but not _it._ Connor is leaning across their desks, whispering expectantly at him, “Well? What happened?”

He plops into his seat and scoots forward, shoving off his coat and his gloves. “I asked him out on a date.”

Connor's eyes widen and his chair gives a metallic thump hitting the edge of the desk, “That's ambitious! Did he say yes?”

“Not exactly…” He runs his fingers through his hair, feeling embarrassment burn at the back of his neck.

“What did he say, Hank?”

“He said he wants to play Minecraft!” Hank whispers frustratedly, not looking up.

Connor blinks slowly, tilting his head as he calculates. “He wants to play… your thirty-one year old block game… as a date?”

“I think he missed that last part, Connor.” He pulls himself up and leans across their desks, “He even eyed me up.”

Connor's face falls, “I had a feeling this would happen.”

He sighs and taps under Connor's chin, “Head up, honey. We'll worry later, alright? Just be happy he's coming over.”

He watches Hank turn back towards his desk, booting up his terminal. He does the same, shelving the topic to make room for work day protocols. He can't dismiss that he does enjoy the fact that Nines will be coming over, even if it’s not like they planned. Nines being in their home makes it that much warmer, makes a quiet hum resound in the circuits behind his ribs. “I’m always happy about that.”

Connor devotes himself to work after that. Hank does their fill of paperwork while he collects information about their next case. He makes a few calls, letting his tone soothe like it’s designed to, and people offer over what he's looking for. He listens when they ramble and gets them gently back on course, all the while glancing around the office, over to Nines a few times because he can’t help it.

Nines must think it's expectant, because he works part time and doesn't have a title until he finishes the academy. He helps wherever he can, learning valuable skills all the while. He closes the file he's been looking over and comes around his desk.

‘ _I'm admiring you._ ’ Connor sends to him wirelessly, nervous but putting it out there anyway.

Nines stops at the edge of his desk, maintaining eye contact. ‘ _You are?_ ’

‘ _Do you not want me to?_ ’ Connor speaks seamlessly to the woman on the phone, following the two conversations easily. If he’s honest, he’s much more invested in this one.

Nines looks at him for a long moment. It feels like Connor's heart is tightening in his chest, faced with him like this. Not because Nines is scary or makes him uncomfortable, but because he doesn't want to mess up. He went through this learning experience with Hank, he made mistakes and learned. Now his percentage of potential romantic mistakes is higher again; Nines is a new factor, he doesn't know the small ins and outs of Nines like he knows Hank. Arguably, he knows him in a deep, different way— their connection spans from the beginning of their existences, shared and together but separate and different. But it's far from the same.

Nines reaches for his file again, eyes still on Connor. He sees the moment Connor’s eyes focus again. He slides onto his desk and sits elegantly, back straight and legs for days. ‘ _No, please look at me._ ’

Connor loses his breath. It must make noise because it attracts Hank's attention. He knows Hank gives him _a look_ out of the corner of his eye. ‘ _I will. Thank you. You're very handsome, 900._ ’

He manages to keep speaking on the phone while he tries to discreetly reach over for Hank's cellphone. It’s settled haphazardly between their desks and he gets his hand on it, skin pulling back as he connects. It shows one number, **9** . Hank peers at it and then looks at Nines perched on his desk like a model, reading from his file like business as usual. Something - _Connor_ \- makes him roll his shoulders and a soft blue dusts over his cheeks. His LED is turned away from them but Hank can guess it's spinning.

‘ _800, that's very kind of you._ ’ Nines replies with a certain softness.

‘ _Truthful of me. The way you present is stunning._ ’ Connor doubles down on the compliment and it immediately pays off.

Nines smooths his shirt and undoes the top button, ‘ _I'm only prepared for work._ ’

‘ _Stunning._ ’

Connor ends his work call and hangs up the phone, a little saddened he doesn't have an excuse to stare in one place anymore. It still takes so much for him to take his eyes off Nines. He interfaces with his terminal to buy himself another few moments.

‘ _I'll be available for viewing later too, 800._ ’

His face flushes with heat, scooting closer towards his desk as he finally looks away. He nods subtly and across the bullpen he hears Nines chuckle. With his hand still resting close, Hank's hand settles warm over it. It makes Connor jump and he huffs in amusement, “What was that about?”

“I'm very flustered, Hank.” he whispers, staring resolutely at his terminal.

“Well, I'd sure think so. He was sitting up there all pretty. That for you?” Hank asks, watching Nines smoothly move off his desk and go to provide aid for another officer.

Connor nods, “I think… we flirted.” He meets Hank's eyes and they both share the same look. Slight confusion, excitement, a little bit of awe. “Do you feel this way when I flirt with you?”

“What, like… wiggly in the chest, kinda stupid, invigorated and a little hot all over?”

Connor blinks rapidly, “Yes, exactly that.”

“Yeah.” Hank nods easily, leaning back in his chair.

“I love you.” He breaks into a smile, heart all soft. He squeezes Hank's hand.

“Love you too, honey. ‘Round the whole world.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hank cleans up the light clutter left around the house, even though Nines has seen the house in all kinds of disarray. True to his word, he fires up his old gaming tower and displays it over the TV. Connor is still in the bedroom, Hank can hear him shuffle around every once in a while. But he was simmering something on the stove and when Hank goes over to check, it looks… gross. It's shiny enough to be mirror-like, a deep blue liquid and slightly bubbling at the edges, with black sediment on the bottom.

He turns off the heat and sets the pan aside with a grimace, “Connor! Whatever you had on the stove looks done for!”

“Shit.” he hears Connor from the other room. He leaves the lid on the damn thing and makes his way over, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom.

“What are you doing? You're still not dressed?” his sighs heavily, brows pinching together. Connor's back is to him but he's in his robe, and it's dangling precariously on his shoulders. “He's gonna be here any minute.”

“I couldn't decide.” Connor tells him, with a clipped edge Hank knows isn't for him.

“Honey, anything is fine. Look at me, I found… y'know, a balance.” he gestures to himself, his nicest pair of joggers and double socks, a long sleeved shirt that's thin but sits nice under a cardigan. He's comfortable and it feels better than his shorts, hoodie and a blanket all night.

Connor turns to look at him, and that's when Hank realizes he's wearing nothing but a pair of winter socks and lace underwear. His eyes sweep over rapidly, mouth hanging open, “Connor. He's gonna be here.”

“I know. I can't choose, Hank. This is a very big decision.”

“It's really not. It's clothes, and you look amazing in everything, so just put something on.”

“I have. This is a potential option. I'm debating.”

Hank blusters, “Connor! You're wearing nothing.”

Connor huffs, thumbing the waistband of the panties, “I'm wearing nice things.”

Hank feels himself flush, scrubbing a hand over his face, "You are, baby. You look… _so good._ But, maybe not for Nines right away. Yeah?"

He looks over his rack of clothes again with a light sigh, resigning himself to grabbing a pair of sweatpants. He steps closer to Hank, pushing his robe off his shoulders. He likes the way Hank's eyes roam. "Fine… but I'm keeping the underwear on."

"You do you, sweetheart." Hank rubs his knuckles along a line of freckles on Connor's chest. "He'll be here soon."

"I miss him." He whispers.

Hank kisses his forehead. "Not for long."

Connor's not even finished getting dressed before Nines is knocking on the door. Hank lets him in despite Nines having a key and offers a hug that sometimes gets declined. But this time it's immediately taken and Nines holds him close, saying how much he appreciates the hospitality.

"Hey, our home is your home." Hank tells him, squeezing him gently against his chest. He doesn't miss the way Nines inhales against his neck or how he freezes for a fraction of a second after hearing Hank's words.

"You mean that?" Nines asks as he's led further inside.

Hank's big hand spans along his shoulders, warmth and soothing motion. "Of course. We gave you that key, we want you here."

Nines' LED spins yellow a few times and then he gives Hank a smile, returning the touch by laying his hand on Hank's side. "Thank you for reminding me, it's kind."

"Ah, jeez." Hank's hand draws up to the back of his neck, he leans up and presses a kiss to Nines' forehead. Nines blinks at him in surprise but his shoulders slowly droop. Hank doesn't think he's even notices the tension leaving him.

"Nine-hundred." Connor pads into the living room, still hastily putting on his shirt. It's one of Hank's silk ones, mostly open where he's done up only two buttons so far. "I'm so happy you're here."

Nines meets hands with him halfway, skin stripping away as they connect. Connor's eyes flutter and Hank smiles to himself. He reminds Sumo to stay and wait his turn for Nines' attention as he's passing into the kitchen.

Connor feels snowflakes on his palm, a warm liquid filling his belly, and scented water dabbed against his body with a warm washcloth. It cascades over him in such a lovely way, he floats for a moment in their shared consciousness with Nines as a tether. He only realizes until after that he's shared the warmth of Hank's hand on his thigh, Sumo's happy welcome home kisses, and gliding his thumb between skin and lace.

"I'm happy to see you as well." Nines slowly allows their hands to part and then reaches down to start buttoning Connor's shirt. "I calculated down to the second when I could leave to not arrive too early and risk social upset."

Connor knows he's turning red, watching Nines' deft fingers. He makes himself look up at his face instead, "You didn't have to do that. You could have told us you'd liked to come early."

"Boundaries are important." Nines answers, fingers catching over some of the last buttons on Connor's shirt. He doesn't fasten them, and lets his hands fall away.

"They are, but you are also important to us. Naturally, as is your comfort." Connor promises. Nines' brows raise slightly and he pauses to try and find words. He gently touches Nines' arm, "Would you enjoy a drink?"

Knowing Nines had something to drink before coming here and scarcely uses his stomach as it is, Connor is even more delighted when Nines says yes. He leaves him in the living room to greet Sumo, grinning at the sounds their happy reunion. Hank bumps his hip as he slides up next to him at the stove, "You alright?"

"I think I'm laying it on too thick. And I'm getting distracted." He whispers, stirring the pot Hank had deemed 'done for'. It… kind of is, but granted it is his first time making Thirium hot chocolate with a new high heat resistant brand.

Hank rumbles with a low laugh, "Ah, lay it on thicker. You wanna give him affection, it's okay to. As long as he's comfortable." he looks over his shoulder to where Sumo's got Nines pinned, laying on him with his tail swishing wildly. Sumo doesn't do that unless someone's voluntarily gotten on the floor for him. "And I'd say he's comfortable."

Connor looks back too, and Hank sees his whole face brighten. He knows Connor's feeling the stress, the need to please, to be on the same footing and _know_ with every fiber of his being. It's a lot to hold back and be unsure about. He presses a kiss over Connor's LED, lingering as he touches Connor’s lower back. When he looks over, Nines' eyes are on them, watching their intimacy.

Nines blinks himself out of it, "I may need assistance if you'd like me to sit with _you_."

Hank gives a snort and comes over to shoo Sumo away, "Alright, now. Let the man up. He comes here, gives you love, and you cover him with fur and mouth germs."

Nines gets up smoothly when Sumo finally hefts himself up and away. He dusts off his black sweater, now covered in a bunch of dog hair, "I should've realized he's transitioning to a full winter coat. But I don't mind, I love him just as much as I did previously."

"Hear that, bud? Loves you just as much as previous times. That's high praise!" Hank smiles, and Sumo boofs, leans his head up for a well deserved pet. He gives in easily. "But really Nines, sorry about it. You need a roller? I can wash that shirt, we’ll get you another."

Nines' hands pause. "Another?"

"Yeah, I mean." He shrugs, thankful Connor's coming in with his hands full of drinks, "Remember what I said."

He can see Nines pulling up his perfect recall, eyes distant for only a moment. "Oh." He assesses Connor in a way Hank catches. "One of your shirts, yes. I can use one? I haven't, um… only Connor's…" he looks distant again, fond, "My first birthday."

"I gave you my spare clothes." Connor smiles at the memory, setting all the mugs down, "No bad jackets and scratchy fabrics for you."

"I never wore another bad fabric in my life." Nines says, looking proud. Connor looks proud of him. Hank chuckles softly and leads Nines to the bedroom, taking another of his loud silk shirts down from the hanger.

"You sure you want one of these?" He asks as he hands it over. Nines touches the fabric again and again, petting it. It must feel nice for him.

"Yes. It comes from you." Nines tells him simply. And Hank feels very much like a tender old man.

"Oh, thought you'd think it was ugly." He chuckles, trying to get past the urge to hug him.

"It's very ugly." Nines says, but he's using that sweet tone when he's trying to be upbeat, "Isn't that something from your age group? It's ugly, I have to see it."

Hank snorts loudly, slightly embarrassed with how noisy it is when he's caught off guard. Nines looks so satisfied, like he's done something very good. He gives Hank such a wonderful smile, it aches his heart. Hank gives him one back, "Did you do research on that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you are important, why else?"

Hank swaddles himself in his cardigan, feeling his stomach flutter. Oh, so blunt sometimes. "Ah, jeez… You're important too, sweet thing."

Nines' LED spins yellow once. "Thank you."

Hank turns away when Nines slips off his sweater. He takes it blindly to set it into the wash, and hears Nines take a shaky breath. The sensation of silk directly on Nines' skin is entirely new, it creates a shudder effect throughout his back, sensors eagerly taking in the information. It feels slippery in a dry sense, cold but comfortingly indulgent. He stores it away as favorable.

He does up the amount of buttons Connor had accomplished on his own, "Why don't you look at me?"

"What? …It's, y'know, common courtesy. Social construct." Hank says, arms crossed. The soft, slightly pilled fabric of his cardigan stretches across the span of his back.

Nines steps closer, "Not for lack of wanting to?"

Heat blooms on Hank's cheeks. It takes him a moment to answer. "… No."

"Interesting." He makes his way to the door, skirting past a brightly colored Hank. Connor is still in the living room, perched on the arm of the couch. He takes Connor's hands and guides them to an undone button, "You know, I think I may have found a new fabric that I enjoy. It's very kind to be included in this… Connor?"

Connor blinks at him, having not moved at all yet, "Yes?"

"Please button my shirt, my skin is very sensitive. I’m available to be looked at now."

Doing as he's told, he buttons the shirt as Nines did for him when he arrived, "Why did you want me to do it?"

Nines' head tilts, "Is that… not tradition?"

Oh. Connor lets himself relax, giving an easy smile. Nines thinks there's some ritual involved in borrowing Hank's clothes. He'll play along, heart soft. It’s so sweet. "Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you for participating."

"Anything that makes you more comfortable, eight-hundred." Nines stands there for just a moment when Connor's fingers rest at the hollow of his throat, touching his skin. Then he settles onto the couch and grabs for one of the gaming controllers, "Thank you Hank, for sharing with me. Can we play now? I have a lot to do."

Hank shoots Connor a smitten look and the two of them sandwich Nines in on the couch. Hank's leg brushes Nines' and he doesn't move away. It's really something. As soon as Hank gets them into their expansive world, Nines interfaces with his controller.

"Okay, so do you need any cobble…?" Hank sees Nines’ character rush off and his sentence trails into a light chuckle. Nines must really want to work on something, to start or complete something. He doesn't take it personally, he likes the excitement.

Nines glances at him once, twice. LED whirring. Then he severs the interface, skin crawling back over his hand as he gently takes the controller in both. "Yes, Hank… I would like some, please."

Hank turns to look at him with a rapidly brightening smile, "Alright, let's get down to it, then."

Connor watches them fondly while they play. Hank really gets into it, he still knows the game well, and protects Nines from things while they build. Connor leans over and grabs his mug to sip at his Thirium cocoa, grinning as Sumo lumbers over to lay on top of the foot Nines has on the floor.

Nines gives him a sweet smile, "Hello, canine. Thank you, that keeps me warm and aware of your breathing."

Sumo makes a little content rumbling noise.

Connor leans close to Nines' side, not touching but close enough. Nines takes it the rest of the way, resting back until his arm brushes Connor's shoulder. Nines is sitting slightly diagonal on the cushion with one leg drawn up, to give Hank optimal attention. This is his way of giving Connor some, too.

"Would you like to try the drink I've made?" Connor asks softly, gesturing with his own mug. Nines' will get cold on the table before too long, and he doesn’t think it’ll be good when it’s cold.

Nines reaches back for Connor’s mug and presses it to his lips, going rigid for a moment. His LED flickers, mouth placed where Connor's had been. It takes him less than a moment to start moving again, ingesting a sip before hastily handing it back. "That's… very enjoyable, eight-hundred. Thank you."

Connor blinks and then manages a nod, "I'm… I'm glad."

Nines and Hank play for a good long while, getting a little lost in it. Nines seamlessly holds conversation separate from the game and… keeps leaning back against Connor as the minutes tick on. To the point where Nines is against his chest and every breath Connor takes ghosts over Nines' skin. Hank has noticed out of the corner of his eye but doesn't pay it any attention, in case it scares Nines off. Connor feels an incredible amount of satisfaction nestled up like this.

' _I can feel you purring._ ' Nines' message in his head pings.

' _My regulator, some sensor nodes._ ' He offers, because anything else would give him away entirely.

' _I've felt it before. At the hospital._ ' Nines tells him, _'It… soothed me. I almost went into stasis._ '

' _Almost?_ ' He turns his head just so, brushing Nines' ear with his nose.

' _I wanted to hear more, so I did not sleep._ ' Nines admits.

Connor's heart aches. ' _I missed the weight of you when you were gone._ '

' _I missed your warmth when I was taken home._ '

' _I missed you close._ '

' _As did I._ '

Connor lays his head on Nines' shoulder, gently nudging their heads. Nines becomes heavier against him, a rare full relaxation. Connor swears he could cry at the trust and sheer vulnerability Nines is giving away. He's not made to do that, not made to relax or bare his throat or smile. But he does them.

' _You know,_ ' he starts, purposefully keeping back his wave of emotion, ' _you can have that any time you want, 900._ '

Nines sighs softly, and Connor can feel something resigned in his tone, ' _800, you are too kind to me. Thank you for saying so._ '

Connor doesn't understand. ' _I mean it._ '

' _I know._ ' Nines gently rests his head on Connor's, ' _Yes, I know._ '

Connor feels his chest tighten. He wants to ask Nines why it feels so odd to hear him say that. He wants to reach out. But Nines pulls away from it and clears his throat, speaking in the softest voice they've ever heard, "Hank?"

Hank looks just as tenderhearted as Connor feels. Hank takes on a warm tone, "What is it, honey?"

"You need to eat." He sets his controller aside, "It's time, isn't it?"

"I'm feeling a little hungry, yeah." Hank shrugs.

"I will make you something." He smooths out the wrinkles in his pants and shifts to get up.

"Oh, you don't—" Hank tries to say, but Nines is already up and going to the kitchen.

"I will make you something." He promises in that determined way that means he's given himself an objective.

Hank settles his hand on Connor's thigh and gives a little squeeze, a sort of exasperated happy look on his face. Connor manages to return it. They follow Nines into the kitchen and Hank leans on the counter with his arms crossed, "You know you don't have to do this, right? You're our guest."

"That conflicts with your previous promise, Hank." Nines tells him, starting to precisely construct a sandwich. Hank gives him a confused look and Nines opens his mouth, speaking with Hank's voice, " _Our home is your home._ "

Connor feels a tingling brightness rush up his spine. Hank blushes and scoffs, hiding a smile as he turns away, "Smartass."

"I didn't know my backside could be intelligent, Hank." Nines says purposefully.

Hank blusters, sputtering out a laugh as he tries to sound chastising, "You fucker!"

Nines dips his head and gives Hank a sweet smile. Connor snorts into the cuff of his silk shirt. Nines' LED is happy and blue. He takes a can of peaches down and opens it with more grace than needed.

Hank shakes his head, sending Connor a grin, "Sometimes I wish I could power bomb him into the couch."

"You'd have trouble lifting me. I'm heavier and made more sturdy than Connor." Nines hums, glancing back at them. Hank's brows pull up. "Connor excels at agility. He could squeeze through a small space in a wall with efficiency."

Connor preens at the praise, at the use of the E word. It sounds good on Hank's lips, now Nines' too. He's _efficient_. "Thank you."

Hank smiles, a little lost. He's seen Connor in the field, but Nines isn't allowed much of that yet. "Connor is extremely efficient, of course." he shamelessly flirts. Connor turns to check inside the fridge, to hide that he’s getting flustered. Hank grins before looking back to Nines, "But.. you get to that wall too, what do you do?"

"I go through the wall."

"The crack in the wall." Hank provides.

"The wall." Nines says, decisively.

Hank feels himself swallow hard. _Holy shit_. This only happens once in a while, where Hank will remember that Connor could crush him under his fingers. Faster, stronger, smarter. Now he knows Nines can just break through walls in his way, and Hank obviously much easier than that. And they choose to touch him sweetly and praise him for being so strong. He flushes. Connor is at his side with a knowing look, barely keeping a shit-eating grin at bay as he draws his hand up Hank’s bicep.

"I think Hank could take you off your feet, nine-hundred." He says, voice sly.

"I think you're mistaken. I would win any attempt to secure me." Nines finds a knife to cut Hank's sandwich into triangles, being careful not to let crumbs get everywhere.

"You sure?” Hank teases, egging him on. “Don't wanna test it? I bet I can do it." 

Nines glances at him as he places the sandwich pieces on a little plate. Then he lays the knife in the sink and steps away from the counter, giving his head a little tilt. He sighs while he gives in before gesturing vaguely, invitingly. "It will bruise your ego. And maybe your body."

Hank grins so bright. He takes slow steps around Nines, knowing he'd be on the floor in a second if Nines wanted. But he seems amused in Hank's sureness— playful, even. "That a threat or a promise, sweet thing?"

Nines blinks rapidly, "Ah… a simple fact."

Hank hovers over Nines' shoulder, smiling at Connor when he hums thoughtfully. He comes around to face Nines, looking over his steely eyes and then down his body. He knows what he's going to do. He spares another glance at Nines, "...You know what I'm going to do, don't you?"

"Yes." He straightens his shoulders just so, smug. Hank squints at him and then raises his arms as fast as he can, to make a grab for Nines’ wrists. There’s not even a chance. Nines easily grabs his forearms and keeps him relatively still, strength matched as Hank pushes. "As I said, Hank. It's—"

Hank's lips press to his cheek.

Nines goes still, categorizing all the sensory and DNA data. Hank shoves his slack hands away before getting his arms under Nines' knees and around his back. Then he heaves. He's absolutely heavier than Connor, by a good amount, Hank thinks as he distributes it between his arms and changes his footing. But he’s not letting go, not with how successful he feels. "Ha! I'd say you're secured now, bud."

Connor laughs, at both Hank's triumphant but slightly red face, and the barely concealed shock Nines is giving. He's a deep blue to his ears and is completely still, suspended there in Hank's arms. "I… was wrong.”

"Yeah, I got you! Didn't think I could do it, huh? I used to bench four hundred, you know." Hank grins, obviously proud of himself. He bounces Nines softly in his arms.

"I'm much softer than an exercise weight." Nines says, sounding dazed, "I didn’t think of… this. I didn’t calculate for… I'm. I _miscalculated_.”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. Happens to everyone.” Hank soothes, but that’s not what it’s about. Connor sees it in the strobing of Nines’ LED— he really didn’t think Hank could lift him, he didn’t think of a scenario where he’d be cradled in Hank’s arms.

“It’s a new sensation. Isn’t it, nine-hundred?” He asks, as he sends off ‘ _It’s nice, isn’t it? He’s very capable_.’

Nines is the most flustered Connor has ever seen. He schools his expression with a controlled breath. He tries to act as if everything is normal, as if he’s not with his own two feet off the floor and braced against Hank’s big chest. He tries to grab for any semblance of normalcy he can, so he reaches over to the counter, picking sliced peach from the can and offers it to Hank like he does most snacks. Thinking maybe he’ll be put down, and uses it as a reward for proving him wrong. The juice drips over his hand and his LED still blinks yellow. His voice is even. “I am impressed.”

Hank hangs there for a moment, before huffing and eating from Nines' hand. He mumbles a "thank you" before settling Nines back onto his feet. Nines takes in his surroundings again like he's seeing from new eyes, absentmindedly licking the peach juice beginning its way down his wrist. Connor's analytics fire online at the image of it.

Nines meets his eyes, round and alert, then swiftly looks away. Like he’s been caught in some way. He collects Hank’s plate and the bowl Hank’s deposited the peaches in, bringing them into the living room. Hank follows easily, used to his androids moving things around by now. He just settles down on the couch again, seeing Nines hold up one of the small triangles of his sandwich. He glances to Connor settling down on his other side now, then leans forward and takes a bite right from Nines’ hand again. Nines’ eyes widen slightly.

He never knew he could care for Hank like this, to feed him directly from his hands. He’s cooked food for Hank and Connor plenty of times, at his own home and brought to them as surprise gifts, and here at their home. But he’s never been part of it like this. There’s a certain… intimacy involved, a level of care he can provide that feels good. Like he’s included. He presses the food at Hank a little eagerly, encouraging another bite. Hank smiles at him, not done with his first one but taking another anyway. He leans back against the couch and Nines shifts to follow him.

Nines is startled by Connor reaching out to touch his knee, but his predecessor’s voice is soft. "Would you like me to get him something to drink, nine-hundred?"

Hank pushes for his attention by gently tapping his other knee, wanting more. Nines stutters when he moves, letting Hank eat. "I… Yes, that's a good idea. Thank you."

As Connor steps back into the kitchen, Nines' messages ping in his head like he doesn’t realize he’s sending them. ' _Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._ '

Hank gets his controller set back into his lap and his laugh is smothered by a peach being pressed into his mouth. "Mm. Okay, okay…" he goes back to their little construction area in the game, but not before securing the protection of Nines' character. It’s a detail Nines misses, but he’s sufficiently occupied.

Connor sits back with a drink in hand, giving Hank an indulgent smile, "You're getting pampered, aren't you?"

"This is the height of luxury." Hank mumbles around a full mouth, eyes flicking down to Connor's hand sliding onto his thigh. He swallows and licks his lips, subtly encouraging him by shifting his legs open a bit more. Nines consistently feeds him, tucking his legs under himself to be near him. Hank gives him a sweet, thankful smile.

When the sandwich is gone, Nines takes to the peach slices. Like before, he feeds Hank with his hand because he doesn’t have any silverware. Connor doesn’t offer to get any. Hank seems fine like this, his happy hums keep steadily reassuring Nines of that. Connor stares openly, leaning heavy against Hank’s side. He rests his arm over the back of the couch, nuzzling behind Hank’s ear, everything about this feeling so like home in his heart. He looks across to Nines, gently reaching out for him.

Nines stares at the hand for a moment, before pressing his cheek into Connor’s palm with a long exhale. He can feel the warm flush of blue gather on Nines’ cheeks. An incredible detail brushed under his skin. Connor wants to tell him how nice it is. He rubs his thumb against that warmth, that softness, basking in Nines shutting his eyes for just a moment. But then he blinks his eyes open again like he’s catching himself and offers the last peach to Hank.

Hank sighs around his last bite, keeping Nines’ gaze. It’s an easy decision to make, to lean forward and take Nines’ fingers into his mouth, getting some of that peach juice off of him. Nines’ eyes go wide, shivering visibly while his slack fingers learn the texture of Hank’s tongue. Hank hums around them while Connor murmurs so softly, caressing his cheekbone, “Nine-hundred…”

Nines watches his fingers slip from Hank’s mouth before he meets Connor’s eyes, and then he’s abruptly straightening his spine in a sharp, inhuman way. “I should go for tonight.”

Connor watches him all but fling himself off the couch, going to get his shoes on. “Wait, Nines—”

“Thank you for having me. It was enjoyable. I am glad I was invited.” Nines speaks fast, almost professionally, as he tugs his coat on.

“Nines, honey. Hold on now, we don’t want you to go—” Hank tries, pulling himself up from the couch.

“I had— I’m. It was— Sleep well, Lieutenant. Goodnight, Connor.” Nines carries on as if he hadn’t spoken, tugging the door open and shutting it behind him quickly. He leaves only a gust of cold air in his wake, shivering over both of them.

Hank hangs there in the doorway for a moment before he turns back to Connor, a look of disbelief and guilt mixed on his face. Connor lets out a weary sigh and collapses back onto the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“I went too far, didn’t I? He looked so eager. Ah, fuck, Con— I fucked it up. Shit—” Hank leans against the back of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, it was my fault. I should’ve interfaced with him, I should’ve given more of myself…”

“Connor, no. That’s not it, you tried your best. You—”

“No, I didn’t.” He looks at Hank with a defeated huff, a churning feeling in his stomach. He feels something akin to the old fizzle of a mission failure. He wants to reach out to Nines, talk to him, to see how it went wrong and see what he can do to make it up to him. But he wouldn’t know where to start, he doesn’t have data for this. He doesn’t know what to do.

He pulls himself up from the couch, shaking his head, “I didn’t. I missed something.” He pushes himself down the hall, turning into the bedroom to find Nines’ sweater. He pulls it over his head before dropping into bed, smelling Nines’ soaps and apartment, Hank and himself now too. He wished he’d done enough to make Nines stay, he could’ve fallen asleep with them both, all the warmth in the world.

Hank slides in behind him, pillowing his head on his back. He sighs hot air against his spine, “Hey.” Connor grunts softly as a reply. He closes his eyes, squeezing at his lover’s hip, “I know, baby.”

“I miss him.”

Hank’s learned that means so much more than just missing him. It encompasses things Hank will never fully understand, but it’s important to him all the same. He pulls up Connor’s sweater and shirt enough to kiss a freckle on his back, “I know, baby.”

“I had a plan.” He mumbles into the pillow. Hank makes a curious noise that tells him to elaborate. “I was about to ask him to spend the night… I would’ve given him the softest blanket and asked him where he wanted to lie in our bed. If he wanted to hold one of us, or be held…”

“That’s a good plan, honey.” Hank tries to soothe. "Some things don't go according to plan and… that's okay. We'll figure it out."

Connor tries to relax into the reassurance, sighing softly. "Thank you. I'm sorry it didn't work, Hank."

"Don't be sorry." It's punctuated by another kiss.

He adjusts his head on the pillow, turning to look at the last of the evening light peeking through the curtains, "Would you read to me, my love? I'd enjoy your voice."

Hank smiles against a group of freckles, "Anything for you."

Nines doesn't contact him at all for the rest of that night, not even with his usual 'I am home safe' message. Connor feels the loss of it but he doesn't reach out. He extends his and Hank's morning by not allowing Hank out of bed, by needing to be kissed and held and touched. Hank indulges him until they're almost late for work.

Connor wears Nines' sweater again, tucking it under heavy winter coats as if keeping it safe from the cold. Nines isn't at the precinct when they get there, and it makes it easy for him to fall into his work. They make up reports, Hank has a meeting with Fowler, Connor chats with Ben in the break room while he makes himself warm Thirium.

A new crime scene takes them from the office. They help the forensics team preserve the scene as well as they can from the flurry of snow and whips of wind. His knees are cold and he has to analyze frozen blood off the ground. Hank kisses his cold, sanitized fingertips back in the car, saying how much he wishes they could go home. They both feel off after last night. But they head back to the precinct to categorize their findings.

Connor detours to the break room to get Hank something warm to drink, lost in his thoughts and his concern for the cough Hank kept having at the crime scene as he goes through the motions. Someone sidles up to him and he turns to give them a polite workplace smile, then stops in his tracks.

"Hello, Connor." Nines says, gathering a cup and teabag from the tray.

He stands, frozen, for a long moment. Nines' voice is… the same he'd give to another coworker. He hasn't sounded like that for a long time. It was always a little more tender for him, even at work. "I… Hello. How are you?"

"Running optimally, thank you. I'm going to make Officer Miller a cup of tea, we're working together today and his throat is sore." Nines watches the cup of coffee dispensing for Hank.

Is Nines acting like nothing happened?

Connor doesn't know what to say. Did it go that badly? His fingers itch to reach out, he wants Nines in his head so badly. The change in tone makes him feel very aware that it may not be an option. Nines closed off from him makes his throat close up.

He shudders in a breath like he can't get enough air, feeling tight in his chest. He looks away and pulls at his coats, he's so cold but it's too much. Even the neckline of Nines' sweater feels as if it’s choking him even when he found comfort in it before. "I'm— excuse me, I feel…" he folds his coats over his arm and reaches for Hank's paper cup in the mouth of the machine.

Nines has stopped moving as well. His face is guarded, looking vaguely around the area of Connor's chest. He's turned just enough where Connor can't see his LED, but he realizes Nines can probably see his blazing red. Embarrassment and worry steep his body, coiling sickly in his stomach. He leaves the break room quickly, all but fleeing from the situation.

Hank stares at him when he stands rigid in front of the desk, pressing the coffee out to him in a harsh and mechanical way. Arm straight and enough force to slosh some of it onto the floor between Hank's legs. It would've hit his lap if he hadn't shoved his chair back out of the way.

"Connor?" he asks, halfway between startled and worried at the signals Connor's body is giving off.

"Your coffee, Lieutenant." He can't say Hank's name, it'll come out broken.

" _Hey._ " Hank's voice is gentle and knowing as he rises from his seat, trying to coax him into revealing what’s wrong. He takes the cup from Connor's hand and leaves it on the desk, reaching up to shield his LED from onlookers. "What's going on?"

"I wish we did go home." Connor whispers, trying to step away. Hank tries to comfort him but he can’t handle it at the moment. "Please don't touch me, we're at work and I can't…"

Hank looks sad, for just a moment. Before he lowers his arms and nods, "Okay. Okay, honey. Why don't you go take a breather? Then… then later we can talk, if you want to."

He takes a deep breath, the smell of Hank's aftershave close enough. It helps. "I just feel… I lost a connection." he says, as he moves towards the bathrooms to give himself some privacy.

Hank watches him go, standing dumbly at his desk. He looks around, seeing no one has really noticed anything wrong. Except one, across the bullpen. He meets Nines' eyes and sighs. Then he turns to go get the mop from the cleaning closet.

Over his lunch break, that Connor doesn’t join him for, he stops off at his android’s favorite candy store to get him a collection of treats. Connor’s eyes light up even if the rest of him doesn’t, when he sees the little logoed paper bag in Hank’s hand. He shares a few words with Jeff in the doorway of his office and then collects their files off the joined part of their desks, “Come on, honey. We’re goin’ home.”

Connor takes his hand as they leave, giving a thankful squeeze.


	3. Chapter 3

The couch cushions all but swallow Connor up. He lays sunken into them, head and shoulders propped up by pillows. Wrapped up in his fluffy robe while he eats sugary orange slices and thinks about whether he’ll have chocolate or hard caramels next. Hank was so good to handpick all these little candies for him. He reaches down to run his fingers through Hank’s hair, where he’s resting his head on Connor’s stomach. Hank hums and turns his head to kiss Connor’s bare thigh, set up against the back of the couch. “You doin’ okay?”

He smiles softly, talking around the candy, “Better now, thank you.”

“I love you.” Hank tells him, soft and easy as they watch television.

He scratches softly at Hank’s scalp, feeling his regulator warm with the words, “I love you, too.”

Hank makes a soft, happy sound and reaches over for his pineapple soda on the coffee table. The night is calm, the soft hum of the voices on tv and Sumo playing with his favorite stuffed animal near the computer desk. Connor feels cradled in the heat from the fire, in the warmth and weight of Hank’s body. He wishes Hank was more on top of him, as a blanket of comfort. He pushes another orange slice into his mouth and brushes away the sugar crystals, moving the little container back into the paper bag. He reaches down with both hands to gather Hank’s hair and start to braid, running his thumb over strands that differ from the solid silvery-gray. It’s so soft in his hands, soothes him to weave a pattern.

“Does it need a trim?” Hank asks with the softest voice, smile in his tone.

“It will soon.” he answers. He traces Hank’s ear. “How short would you take it this time?”

“Oh, a mullet.” Hank says easily, shrugging. Connor snorts, tucking his head towards his shoulder.

“Hank.”

One of those little indulgent belly laughs finds its way out of Hank. “Ah, I don’t know. Maybe a little more this time. Still want you to have something to hold onto.”

Connor chuckles softly, smoothing back the hair by Hank's ear. "Always thinking of me."

"If I wanted, would you cut it again?" he tips his head back to try and see him. Connor still holds the braid between his fingers. "Beard, too?"

Connor adjusts his grip to be able to thread his fingers through Hank's beard, fluffier with growth. He scratches under Hank's chin. "I would love to. I can do it tonight if you're willing."

Hank hums and slowly rolls himself over, pressing his face into Connor's belly. He nuzzles there, affectionate, "Nothin' I'd love more."

He wraps an arm around Connor’s thigh and hugs it close to his head, wiggling himself as close as he can get. Connor laughs and tries to open his robe enough for skin to skin against Hank’s face. “Hank!”

He smacks a kiss against the absence of Connor’s bellybutton— Connor had decided last month he’d rather not have one. Connor wraps his leg around Hank’s shoulders and sputters on a loud snort and laugh when Hank blows a raspberry into his skin. Connor’s laugh is always imperfect and jumping out of him, and Hank adores it. “That’s the sound I love.”

Connor shakes his head, smile bright and wonderful. He rubs Hank’s cheek fondly. “Thank you.”

Hank turns to press his lips to Connor’s thumb, “Long as you’re feeling better.”

He gives Hank a nod and they slowly untangle themselves from the couch. Hank gives him a kiss to the temple and heads to the bathroom to get the scissors, razor and comb together. Connor goes to get a chair from the kitchen.

The heavy, quick knock at the front door stops him before he can make it all the way down the hall. He sets down the chair when the next knock comes, just as desperate. Then there’s a key in the lock and Connor rounds the corner as Nines is bursting through the door, scanning the room wildly. His LED is blaring a vibrant, worrying red. He locks onto Connor with immediate focus, “I understand what you meant!”

“Nines?” Connor’s heart pounds in his chest, resounding throughout his body heavily. A hard shiver churning his stomach while the night air floods the room, his hands twitch wanting to close his robe. Nines looks so scattered. There are snowflakes in his hair, his shoes and pant legs covered in snow. His chest is heaving and there’s a glassiness to his eyes, some process keeping him spinning.

“I understand what you meant now.” He swings the door shut hard and rushes to Connor, nervous in a way Connor’s only seen a handful of times. “I apologize, I didn’t understand. I miscalculated.”

“What does that mean?” Connor rests his back against the living room bookcase as Nines pushes towards him, Nines’ frantic breaths mingling with his. “Nine-hundred, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He lifts his hand but hesitates to touch, fingertips at Nines’ LED. It aches to see him like this, he knows Nines is having a lot of trouble communicating.

“I didn’t know you meant it. That you were _trying_ to mean it. I didn’t— I didn’t…” Nines shakes his head. Connor can see him straining, hands shaking, like he’s trying to categorize what he’s going to say. “I told myself you were just being good to me, because that’s what you are, that’s what you both are. You always are. I thought, this— was that. I didn’t see. I was made to be advanced, but all these emotions, I didn’t…”

“Connor? What’s all that noise?” Hank makes his way out of the bathroom, coming around the corner to the two of them. He sees Connor bracketed in by Nines’ arms against the bookcase, sees the lights of their LEDs flicking between yellow and red off the wall. “Hey, what the hell’s going on here?”

Nines’ whole body jolts with a silent sob when he sees Hank, and words force their way from his mouth, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I couldn’t— I couldn’t fail at this. Not this, not you. Not him. The only people… _my_ only people. _Hank._ ” he blinks rapidly, shuddering in breath, “ _Connor_ , I’m sorry—”

Connor can’t take seeing him like this anymore. Nines seems so close to hyperventilating, the panic is in his eyes. He cradles Nines’ head in his hands, holding him steady. “Nine-hundred, cool down. Slow down…” he says, at the same time Hank’s face softens and he tries to soothe with a, “Shh. Shh, sweetheart. Woah…”

Nines deflates in his grasp like he’s been held up by strings, his weight collapsing against Connor and his heart beating so fast against Connor’s chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Show me.” He whispers, guiding Nines’ forehead to his. “It’s alright. Breathe, show me.”

Nines pulls in deep breaths, gasping when Hank so much as touches him on the shoulder. His fingers tremble while he presses them, bare, to the center of Connor’s regulator.

There’s so much feeling at once. Confusion, the urge to understand. A blooming in the pit of his stomach - such a beautiful thing. Then anxiety. Fear. The unknown. The feel of their hands clasped, embraces they’ve shared. All of Nines’ feelings filter in. Flashes of fond, affectionate words and the buzzing in his head, the incredible feedback he feels spending time with them. Abrupt memories of Nines taking Connor’s memories during the accident and folding them like precious gems in a special corner of his mind. Keeping them close and safe. Wanting to do anything, again and again, to keep Connor safe. More than anything.

Then, as it’s shared, the feeling of Hank’s lips against his forehead— so tender, every supporting touch. It makes him ache and float at the same time. Words, made soft for him, something Nines learned to give back. Easy affection he didn’t understand, then basked in. It was easy for the softness to grow in his chest, it was easy to compile bits of software to make them key users, to make Connor and Hank priorities. They already were.

Connor gasps for breath like he’s coming up from underwater, pressing his head back against the bookshelf. He looks up into Nines’ eyes, seeing the lingering worry there. He digs his fingers into Nines’ arm, pulling him closer. “Why did you leave?”

Nines looks away, the whole of his hand sliding over Connor’s skin. Connor shudders while Nines shares the other night, when he’d touched Nines’ face. He feels the way Nines hesitated but ultimately let himself give in, let himself have it for just a moment. Then Hank’s mouth around his fingers, his tongue and soft suction. The heavy, alarming swoop of feeling - arousal, want, fear, need - programs and preconstructions firing online, too much at once, conflict whirling in his entire body while he appeared just fine on the outside.

Rushing out of the door and only making it to the other side of the fence before falling against it, pressing his own fingers in his mouth to chase the taste of Hank, of peaches and saliva and recalling the ghost of Connor’s lips from the mug they both drank from. Connor heart sinks heavily when later that night is shared— Nines in his favorite chair at home, where he sat unmoving the entire night, telling himself he can’t let himself indulge like that again. That he got too close, that he took advantage of their love and affection, that what they have for each other isn’t allowed for him and he needs to give it up.

“No, you didn’t take advantage. No, I promise.” Connor tips his head up, their noses brushing. He flashes back to the break room and how Nines' eyes locked to his chest. Nines identifying his own sweater and realizing with surprise that the creases in the fabric show Connor had barely taken it off.

“I know now.” Nines confirms urgently, shuddering against him.

Connor wraps his arms around his successor, crushing him to his chest. Nines’ head falls onto his shoulder and Hank reaches to rub Connor’s flashing LED to calm him down. His voice is soft, cautious, “What’s going on with my boys?”

“Hank.” Nines reaches out for him nervously and Hank moves into his space with ease, even if his face shows some wariness. Nines transfers from Connor’s arms to Hank’s with minimal effort, but he doesn't let Connor go. He wants them both here. He hugs Hank close, bare fingers twisting in the shoulder of his shirt like he can connect to Hank too. Like his body is begging Hank to see, too. "You asked me on a _date_."

Hank tenses but lets his hand rub over Nines' back, "Ah, I'm…"

"I'm sorry. It's clear now, in your every movement towards me when you asked. You were flirting with me. I thought you were just being kind." He presses his face into the hideaway the crook of Hank's neck provides. He says, like a guilty secret, "I couldn't hope you were this kind."

Connor meets Hank's raw expression, somewhere between disbelief, care and heartache. Hank presses his cheek against Nines' hair, voice caught up, "Remember what I said."

"Home?" Nines whispers, and Hank nods. Nines' fingers tighten against Connor's. "You would let me?"

Hank trails his fingers back up from the side of Connor’s neck, giving him a look that’s clearly asking. He’s so open, loving, wanting. He nods, tipping his cheek into Hank’s hand. Hank presses a kiss to Nines’ hair, “You can have anything you want.”

Nines sighs with relief, taking a moment to build up his nerve before he looks up. He’s still breathing a little hard with adrenaline. Hank’s face is so soft, expression gentle and a little nervous. He slides his arm from around Hank’s shoulders, his fingers curious as they shift through the soft grays of Hank’s beard. His eyes follow his hand, monitoring closely, learning. Hank’s lips part. His eyes flick up, blue to blue, as fingers tuck hair behind his ear. His regulator stutters as he leans forward the smallest amount, pressing his lips to Hank’s. It’s barely a kiss, he hasn’t even closed his eyes, but it feels invigorating all the same.

But then Hank closes his eyes and tilts his head, pressing into Nines’ kiss with a sweet enthusiasm. Want thrums through Nines’ circuits, a specific little thing, and the feeling flows through to Connor - who lets out a small gasp. Connor kisses Hank’s palm and then moves that hand to Nines, “He wants you to touch his LED like you do with mine.”

Nines breathes out sharp from his nose, shifting his feet while he holds Connor tighter. _Flustered_. Hank makes a soft noise and cups Nines’ cheek, reaching his thumb up to circle that spiralling yellow-red light. Nines can feel the spongy indent of his fingerprint, each whorl yelling Hank’s name to him. He finds his knees slightly weak, his body telling him he should just simply conform to Hank’s.

Hank’s tongue gently touches his lips. His knees waver and he starts to slump into the swell of Hank’s belly with a surprised mechanical chirp. Connor grabs for his waist to hold him up, “Hank, that may be too much.”

“I’d say I was sorry,” Hank says as Nines sways back enough to break the kiss. He drags his thumb over the soft blue staining Nines’ cheek, “but just look at him. You okay, sweetheart?”

Nines gives a nod, licking over his own lips. “I’m sorry, I’m analyzing. I didn’t estimate the um… scope of feeling.”

Hank flushes a little pink, starting to grin, “Does that mean… it was nice?”

“Increasingly.” Nines tells him, soft. His analysis and resulting calibration finish, and then he turns to Connor, seeking out his hand and moving closer, bumping Connor back against the bookshelf. It creaks slightly and Hank holds the edge of it.

“Nine-hundred.” Connor wets his lips as their fingers intertwine. He tips his head back, “Me too?”

“I’ve corrected my sensory intake, I won’t be embarrassing again.” Nines promises in a wavering voice, even as he deals with Connor’s chest against his as he breathes. Nines realizes he’s stopped breathing, and starts up again with a slow inhale.

Connor shakes his head softly, “You were perfectly fine.”

He tilts his head curiously, just learning more about them and their acceptance. He leans down the few inches keeping them apart and kisses Connor in place of responding. It’s slow and he has trouble knowing when to close his eyes again, but seeing Connor’s lashes fan against the top of his cheeks is wonderful. Knowing the feel of Connor’s lips like this is much better than stray data from a hot chocolate mug. He's gentle and warm and his breath tickles Nines' upper lip.

He squeezes Nines’ hand; beginning to send across affection, adoration, admiration. Love. He finds Hank’s hand with his free one, wishing he could give the same. He supposes it carries some of the same, in a human way. Nines is kissing him so chastely, an almost careful slide, and he takes it upon himself to hum and capture Nines’ mouth in a different way.

Connor’s tongue curiously sneaking through his lips has his legs malfunctioning again, a shiver working up through his powerful spine. He decides to try, decides to meet him halfway as he locks his legs. Analysis running, the texture of Connor’s tongue like Hank’s fingerprints, giving him the serial number he could never forget. Sugar and orange extract and slick analytic fluid, Nines doesn’t mean to make noise but it slips out all the same. Connor makes one back to him, an answer and comfort, pressing up on his toes to say he wants more.

“Connor.” Hank chastises with a soft laugh, letting his hand gently rest on Nines’ shoulder.

‘ _Hank_.’ they think at once. Nines reaches out and grabs Hank’s shirt, pulling him closer so they can both turn to kiss their human. Hank’s so surprised, he pecks Nines’ lips and makes a happily exasperated noise when Connor just goes in tongue first. Nines is soft where Connor is eager and Hank feels like he’s gonna be winded if they’re serious about this.

They take turns. Connor basks in seeing the two most important people to him share searching kisses, intimate and new. Nines feels himself fill with warmth being able to openly watch them kiss, learning technique and hints of what either of them like. Hank pants softly after all his own attention, knowing the look of satisfaction on Connor and finding that look not on Nines’ face, but in the way his shoulders rest.

Connor’s eyes aren’t even open when he asks, “Would you like—?”

“Yes.” Nines eyes snap open easily, like he already knows the rest. By their glowing hands, he actually does.

What Hank doesn’t expect is both of them pulling away completely, and Nines dipping to take hold of him. Such an embarrassing noise leaps out of Hank’s mouth as he’s lifted completely off the ground, Nines’ arms never shaking as he carries him towards the bedroom.

Nines’ voice is a different story. It openly glitches while he speaks, humming before words. “I know touch isn’t something I seek out normally, but on this occasion I’d… I’d like to try. I can’t say if I’ll like it, but I’ve been thinking about it and…”

Connor smiles with fondness, “You yearn.” Nines looks bashful and gives a little nod. He moves that forgotten kitchen chair against the wall so Nines can get by with Hank. Excitement builds in his belly as he watches his successor turn into the bedroom, ‘ _Will you put him on the bed?_ ’

The hint of a smirk on Nines’ lips gives away so much for the amusement and smugness the question brings him. He leans with precision to settle Hank on the bed, sturdy and with ease. Hank seems to break from his shock at being placed back down, and drops his head back against the bed with a huge sigh.

“Holy shit.” he peers up at Nines with wide eyes, before going all sweet when Nines kisses his forehead and smoothes back his hair. “Ah, sweetheart… Get on up here.”

“I have snow on my shoes and pants. I won’t ruin your bedsheets.” He straightens up and looms over the bed, staring down at Hank. He doesn’t mean to look so intense, this is just so new.

Connor comes up behind him, chin tucking over his shoulder. Voice like velvet, “Would you like something to wear? These are your work clothes.”

“They are. I arrived home, experienced my realization, and ran here.” Nines’ hand inches back to gently brush their fingers.

“You ran here?” Connor asks, between disbelief and concern.

“That’s why you’re covered in snow.” Hank works himself up towards the pillows to get more comfortable. He knows their bed is big enough for three but he still looks over the bedspread, wondering how they’ll do it.

“Yes. A cab wouldn’t have come fast enough.” He explains, remembering to give a small shrug. He glances to Connor, “Perhaps… something to wear would be nice.”

Connor smiles, pressing a soft kiss to Nines’ neck, “Got it.”

Nines blinks rapidly while he takes in the sensation. "I've never been kissed so much."

Hank chuckles, folding his hands over his belly, "When's the last time you were kissed?"

"Minutes ago." He gestures in the direction of the living room.

"Wait," Hank holds up one hand, starting to squint. "Was that… the first time you've _ever_ been kissed?"

"Correct."

Hank makes a wheezing noise, hand covering his face while he sinks down into the bed. "Oh my god. I was your first kiss?"

A hint of pride. "Correct."

He groans and rolls over, shoving his face into a pillow. He can't believe he's people's firsts this far down the line. Nines beats him to the joke, blunt and strong. "You seem to have something of a reputation, Hank."

Connor snorts, elbow deep in the closet where he's tugging a pair of socks out from being pinched in a drawer. He produces a pair of sweats that are his, a long sleeved shirt that's Hank's, and that fuzzy pair of socks. Nines looks at the garments like Connor's offered him a wedding ring, LED blinking red. "All of this is for me?"

He can't help but lean up to kiss Nines' mouth, delighted in how Nines pitches forward for more when he moves away. "Yes, they're for you. Is there any problem?"

"No." Nines says firmly, hands gently touching the fabrics. "I only… this is important to me."

Connor softens, as if he wasn't close to melting as it was. Home all around him. "You are important."

Nines doesn't know how to respond. His LED swirls and swirls, eyes far away. He gently lifts his hand to Connor's wrist and interfaces. He shares the deep appreciation he feels, the fulfillment of longing, the thought that he has no idea what he's doing but it feels too good to stop. That he feels safe.

Connor nods, feeling his eyes prickle distantly. He starts to undo the buttons on Nines crisp shirt, briefly aware of his own undress compared to the others. "I understand you. I feel it, too… like my regulator will spontaneously eject from my chest."

“I will fix it back into place for you if it does.” Nines whispers. Connor feels warmth pour over his entire being, blooming in his chest so beautifully it almost hurts. He gently untucks Nines’ shirt and pulls it open, following the edge as it frames Nines’ torso. They have freckles that match. Nines’ hand finds his face, rubs against his cheek and Connor realizes he’s crying. “Eight-hundred, you’re upset.”

“I’m very happy.” He promises, leaning into his touch.

Nines dips down and brushes his lips to Connor’s cheek, stopping one of his tears. Connor breathes in shakily and pushes up for it, so Nines feels alright to carry on, to leave more kisses on his predecessor's face to try and soothe him. He cleans the few tears away; lips on his cheeks, his temple, then gently between his brows. “I am, too.”

Connor sniffs and huffs, nodding. Nines gently guides him towards the bed, he wraps his arms around Connor’s waist to lift him only an inch when he needs to get him over a fallen blanket. “Please, rest. It’s alright.”

Connor crawls into bed with Hank and he goes back to the clothes, shrugging out of his shirt and leaving it delicately on top of the laundry hamper. His shoes and socks, wet from the snow on the floor next. Then his pants, before he’s getting himself into his borrowed clothes. The detergent smells like their home, there’s traces of Hank’s hair and one little Thirium stain on the thigh of the sweats. He finds himself pleasantly covered, the fabric of the socks odd but not unpleasant. “Are you looking at me?”

“At nothing else.” Hank tells him, as Connor kisses his fingertips and settles in comfortably to calm himself.

Nines slips into the sleeves and pulls the shirt over his head where he stands at the end of the bed. His confidence wavers a bit as he looks at the two of them, “…Where would you like me?”

Connor sits up quickly, wiping his eyes and not even trying to close his robe. “Where would you prefer to be?”

Hank contains a laugh when Nines takes that to heart, moving around the bed and assessing each place he could lay. In the end, he kneels at the end of the bed and almost bashfully gestures to the middle of the mattress. Hank shoves some pillows into the middle and they both reach out for him, leading him to settle into the spot. He turns towards Connor naturally and Hank covers them up, making sure they all get some of the blanket.

He hesitates before he touches Nines. “It okay if I touch you? Hold you a little bit?”

Nines rolls to look back at him, almost surprised at the questions. “Oh. Please, Hank.” Shoving his head back into the pillow that smells like the both of them, he allows Connor to shift his legs around. “I’ve never slept with anyone before. Move me how you need.”

Hank slides his arm around Nines’ middle and gently shifts to rest against his back. His heart is still a little wild, still caught in a little disbelief. Nines slowly, consistently rests back against him, and he gets up his courage enough to place a kiss at Nines’ hairline. One of Nines’ hands cover his and he realizes it’s just chassis. He squeezes softly at those fingers, “You tryin’ to tell me something?”

“Yes.” Nines whispers, looking down as Connor moves closer, drawing one of Nines’ legs between his. He offers his other hand and Connor takes it with both of his, kissing bare knuckles. His regulator is thrumming heavily in his chest, millions of points of contact now on his body. He can feel Hank’s pulse through his fingers, can dip into Connor’s mind at a moment’s notice. _Intimacy_. It’s so incredibly new in this form and Nines… He sets every notification to the background and it creates a hum he’s never had before. He’s not alone, but doesn’t feel compelled to access every piece of information there is. He doesn’t even want to speak but makes himself to answer Hank. “I feel… so much.”

“Is it okay?” Connor asks him. More and more he recalls the word intimate. Connor’s voice is intimate, this tone for Hank and now for him. It brings a rush of some kind of heat.

He nods, flushing up blue. He notices, reflected in Connor’s eyes, that his LED is finally blue again. Across their connection, he lets just a little of that hum leak in, the rush he feels, the softness of Hank’s body against his back. ‘ _There’s so much, but I find it satisfying. I can’t explain, 800. I’m happy._ ’

Connor’s giddy smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, “I understand. It is good. Are you comfortable?”

‘ _I don’t think I’ve ever been this warm._ ’ He’s encased in it, warmth and weight. He thought he would dislike this, being closed in, but it makes him feel safe.

“Is it good?” Hank murmurs, breath at the back of Nines’ neck. He feels Nines shift and open his mouth, probably to re-explain something. “You don’t gotta talk on my account. I remember. Hm…” he rolls over and grabs his phone off the table. His two bedmates are eager to have him settle back in and it makes him smile. “You can talk to me like Connor. I’ll read it.”

“It’s not entirely like that, Hank. I can still hear… something like his voice. I can know his inflection and tone.” Connor feels he has to point it out, even as he grins at Hank’s readiness to accommodate Nines.

Hank’s phone pops up with a new message from Nines, ‘ _I think you are sweet. I feel very comfortable. Warm. Happy._ ’

Then another, ‘ _You make me happy. Your body is soft._ ’

He huffs softly, nuzzling his head into Nines’ shoulder, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Another bubble, ‘ _I enjoy the nickname._ ’

He squeezes Nines closer to his body and shifts to peer at Connor, smitten as hell. Connor brushes his fingers with a sweet look, before closing his eyes. “Goodnight, my love. Goodnight, nine-hundred.”

Hank rumbles out a soft goodnight to them both. Nines sends across another rush to Connor, another text to Hank.

Connor stays awake after the both of them are asleep, just to look at them. His two favorite people, his _home_ , together in the same bed. He doesn’t know how he’s going to really get to sleep, with all the excitement surging through him. He has to take a few deep breaths and dutifully saves some images of Nines and Hank. They look so beautiful, slack with sleep and curled up together. His calf brushing Hank’s and Nines’ bare sensors against his palm eventually lull him to deep stasis.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, Connor slowly becomes aware of Hank’s voice rumbling low and sweet in the early, lucid hours. He can’t make out the words at first, just a wonderful sound, but then it filters in. “—I think so. Maybe a little later.” Hank chuckles and the bed shifts. “What about you?”

There’s a beat of silence, an ankle brushing his under the covers. Nines must be using Hank’s phone to communicate, still. Hank hums, “No, you deserve something nice, too. It's almost Christmas. He’d say the same.”

A hand comes to rest on his hip. There’s another pause, and Hank shifts again, “... I know he’s warm. Having him with you is one hell of a feeling… You look so tired, honey. Do you wanna sleep some more?”

Nines finally becomes vocal, and Connor’s body thrums awake. His voice is actually sleep-rough, croaky and soft. “No… I like being this way with you.”

“You’re killin’ me here.” Hank whispers, clearly flustered. He leans and kisses Nines’ skin. Connor revels in the sound of it. “I like it too.”

“Can I share a… secret, Hank?”

“Hm?”

“I’m designed to move at a moment’s notice, to be alert…” Nines clears his throat softly, “But I like this program… my ‘sleepy program’, as you said. And I want to position myself back around Connor, for no other reason than to hold him.”

Connor feels his regulator stutter to move in pace with his quickening heart. Hank’s lips connect somewhere on Nines again, a soft little sound. “Now that is the best secret I could’ve heard this morning… Go on, I dare you.”

After a moment of anticipation, Nines’ body rolls over and carefully blankets along Connor’s back. Nines’ breath tickles his neck and his leg gently hitches against his hip. It takes a second for Nines to debate, but then the rest of his weight settles, pressing Connor happily into the mattress. He can’t help but sigh at the feeling, and Nines whispers against his ear, “Ah. Good morning, eight-hundred.”

He just groans and grabs for Nines’ hand, flattening himself even more into the bed. Hank chuckles from behind them, scooting himself over. “Oh, gang’s all here. How’s my honeypie, huh?”

Connor snorts at the overly sweet name, burrowing his head further. The feeling of Nines’ lips on the back of his neck has his skin tingling, a surprised gasp muffled into the sheets. Nines pauses, then presses a little more deliberately, testing the way he draws his lips across Connor’s skin. He speaks for the aesthetic of it, “Does that feel good?”

“Mhmm.” he sighs, Nines’ contact filling him with warmth. Nines curiously nuzzles against his skin, brushes a kiss behind his ear.

“It does for me as well.” Nines whispers, shivering even as he says it. His tongue drags over the buzzed, prickly hairs at Connor’s nape and squeezes at his hand. Connor wants to wrap up in him and float. Nines shifts against his back, mouth at the top of his spine, “Turn over. I want to look at you.”

Connor feels his face heat even before Nines’ eyes are on him. He slowly rolls his body over, one of his arms draping around Nines as they lazily kiss. The wave of heat that washes through him is heavenly. Nines, still heavy from his sleep programs, is less precise with his tongue and Connor moans. He loves this, _he loves this_. Nines' hand rests over his own regulator as he pulls back, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Connor can see the way his eyes move over his face, taking him in with a precision only he could.

He wants to say something, tell Nines how good this feels, having him and Hank in this bed with him. But Nines meets his eyes and slowly shifts on top of him— Hank makes a little gasp that Connor agrees with one-hundred percent. Nines catches it, hangs where he is for a curious moment before blushing blue and continuing to Connor's other side like he'd planned.

But he does reach over and take Hank's arm, sliding him across the bed with easy strength and Hank's instinctive urge to hold on. "Shit. Alright, alright, I get it… Was lookin' at the two of you, sorry I didn't move quick enough."

"Apology accepted." Nines says offhand, giving Hank a sly little smile as he presses close to Connor's jaw.

Hank cups Nines' cheek and leans over to kiss that smile. "Y'know, I love when you do that for me. You put so much effort in, makes me happy."

Connor basks in the exchange. He can almost hear the tick of Nines' LED, the rush of successful feedback delivered by the confirmation of Hank's pleasure. He tips his head towards Nines, feeling him in a skimming connection. "…He's going through a lot because of that."

"I keep… _breaking him_." Hank chuckles, a little awed. He kisses Nines' forehead, "Sorry, bud. I just wanted you to know."

Nines opens his mouth but nothing comes out at first. Then he seems to gather the words, if still halted and searching for better. "Thank you. It makes me feel… good. To know. That you seem not to mind my disadvantage, and appreciate my attempts to connect with you. It brings me, ah… I think this is what joy feels like."

"It is." Connor agrees, squishing his cheek to Nines' temple. He closes his eyes, feeling both Hank and Nines settle heavy and relaxed at his sides.

"Nines, _honey_ … God, I love that you're trying for me. Knowing you care enough…" Hank's tone is so sweet. He sounds like he doesn't have all the words he wants to say. He drags his beard against Connor's other cheek, coos knowingly, "You're just loving all this. You two are squeezing my heart, you know. I'm an old man, what are you doing?"

"Loving you." Nines says, plain and simple.

"Loving you." Connor whispers, nodding softly. He doesn't open his eyes but he hears Hank's breath catch, feels Hank's arm reaching across his belly to Nines. Then Hank's lips catching his own in a flustered kiss.

He hums into the kiss; a low, soft thing. He'll never get over the way Hank's kisses feel, the fluttering in his chest and the wash of sensation from their point of contact spreading all the way down his neck. He could melt from the heat, could drown in the depth, shiver right apart into the pieces that make him up. Each sensor alive and seeking out those who love him.

Nines gently kisses Connor’s hand when he’s reached for, before redirecting him to the softness of Hank’s lower side. He watches them kiss, wanting but not rushed, small smiles in the mere second they're ever apart. They smile even if the other can't see it. Nines finds it so interesting, as he lets his fingers skim his own regulator. He takes pleasure in seeing them so in love, in being in the position he is to see it so clearly.

Hank makes a wildly surprised grunt when he's dragged over Connor's body. He swears he already knows Nines' hands like this now, grabby like Connor. It startles the kiss but to see the way Nines is looking at them is worth it. Hank feels a twinge suspicious as he holds that heavy gaze, and then deliberately lowers himself on top of Connor to rub up against him. A tender noise leaks from Nines with Connor's satisfied sigh. _Ah, there we go_. He knows his voice is rougher than before, "You like that, baby?"

Nines almost flinches at Connor's hand winding through his hair. He didn't anticipate the movement, all his intense blooming focus on Hank. He nods softly, his neck feeling stiff and like a component is loose at the same time. Connor scratches along his scalp, embarrassingly sparking sensors in an unusual, pleasant way. His head lolls forward and Connor's hand moves him further, until he's guided into a kiss with Hank.

"It's stimulating." Connor says, not knowing completely if they’re his or Nines’ words. His voice is malfunctioning, a little bit of static as he speaks. He tucks hair behind Hank's ear and thumbs the tendon in Nines' neck, watching how they shiver on their breaths and touch tongues. "Seeing it happen. Knowing it's the two of you… knowing I can have it."

Nines shudders against Hank's mouth, pulling away. His lips are shiny and his tongue hasn't stopped shifting in his mouth with the new data, Connor can see it through the part of his lips. He tilts his hand and presses his thumb into Nines’ mouth.

"Jesus, Connor." Hank rumbles, watching them stare into each other's eyes.

"He's so close to me, Hank." he whispers, awe woven around his words. Nines’ lips close around his thumb and the skin melts back in want to connect. He lets it click through and Nines sends him a rush of thoughts, all wanting and tender. Nines' fingers press harder into his regulator, a little hum his leaving his mouth. Connor's eyes flutter, breath hitching, "You don't…"

Nines grunts around Connor's thumb and nods. ' _We're compatible._ '

“Nine…” His head falls back onto the pillow, absolutely blown away by what Nines is asking him for. He has to close his eyes, press a few deep breaths into the warm air between the three of them.

‘ _Just for a minute._ ’ Nines’ voice in his head almost begs.

“Connor?” Hank hums, nose nudging his cheek, “I know when you two are talking. What is it?”

Connor digs his fingers into the meat of Hank’s shoulder, other hand cupping Nines’ face. “He’s… Say it out loud, nine-hundred. I need—”

“You need…? You… like the scratchy quality my voice gained. You like volume. You like voices.” Nines says slowly, feeling it out as he’s piecing it together in his head. He leans closer, holding Connor’s hand to his face. He has no experience with… begging? “Please? I want to. Just for a minute. Let me feel your heart.”

“Fuck.” Hank grounds out, shifting his hips against Connor’s thigh, “That’s what we’re doing? A little bit of open paneling before eight?”

“If you think the sheets can take it.” He whispers, rough in the way he gets when he’s turned on.

Hank could hear that tone anywhere. He indulges in it, kisses Connor’s jaw and brushes his earlobe with his lips, “If you think _you_ can take it.”

Connor gives him such a satisfying shiver in response. Hank rolls off of him, taking a moment to appreciate his lover disheveled from sleep and kisses, his robe spread open and part of the front twisted under him. He runs his fingers up Connor’s thigh, “Go on, Nines. Make a little bit of a mess, will ya?”

“That’s unnecessary, Hank.” Nines says with an amount of playfulness, moving to straddle Connor’s lap. He rests his hand over Connor’s belly and draws it up to his chest, delighting in the skin melting back at his touch. “Oh. I’m enjoy you this way.”

“I’m admiring you.” Connor whispers, pressing up into his hand. He manages to sit up on his elbows, trying to shake out of his robe. They both help him with it, touching his skin, leaving him in just his boxer-briefs. He lets Nines lead, wanting him to have full control. “You look lovely, nine-hundred.”

Nines pulls up his shirt and Hank holds it out of the way for him. A slight blue flushes over his cheeks and he ducks his head, the skin coming away over his chest now, too. Connor reaches up to frame the circle in his chest with one hand. Nines twitches with pleasure, starting to unlatch his regulator. Connor coos, "Nines… _so_ lovely."

He shudders lightly as the regulator uncouples and it’s a slow, careful slide out of his body. His breath catches, “ _Oh—_ ”

Connor reaches up to help him, intimacy hot in his stomach. He knows it aches and Nines still wants it anyway. He looks up at Nines with so much love, nodding encouragingly. “Right here.”

With a ragged gasp, Nines’ regulator tips into their hands. Connor eagerly presses his free hand to his own chest to fumble with his own couplings. Nines’ skin prickles and shifts with goosebumps, blinking past the alerts that say a vital part of him is missing. It does ache deep and he searches for Connor’s hand, guiding it closer like he can soothe it. He can’t look away from Connor; his beautiful open face, his steady hands and his humming, excited body. He hands off his regulator to Hank without a second thought, enjoying the choked noise Hank gives in response.

“Oh, my god.” Hank looks down at what’s essentially keeping Nines alive, right in the palm of his hand. There’s too much there to unpack in the trust Nines is giving him. The slide of Thirium is warm over his hand and he blows out a deep breath, watching as Connor dips his fingers into Nines’ open port.

Static bursts from Nines’ mouth before a moan shudders through him. He looks almost surprised at himself. Connor whines softly to reassure him. Hank sits up behind him, straddling one of Connor’s thighs to press against Nines’ back. As soon as Hank’s body touches his, his back arches and his eyes squeeze shut with a hiss, overstimulation rippling up his spine. Hank starts to back off but Nines grabs his wrist hard enough to bruise, drawing him back in greedily. He tucks into Nines’ neck and noses against his skin, “Okay, baby. It’s alright, m’here.”

Nines is so sensitive, every touch is a scatter of information. Connor pulls him down onto his lap and it brings a new surge of information that he again jerks away from at first, then presses down into it like he’s making up for the lost seconds. Connor groans for it, carefully popping his regulator up and slowly out of his body. Nines immediately drops down to help move it away, to kiss around the exposed part of his chest. 

He doesn’t care about his state of dress until he very much does— a static-y growl crawling from his throat when he can’t be touched how he wants to. Hank immediately fumbles to get one arm out of the sleeve and push his shirt aside for easier access. He huffs when his counter ticks down to twenty seconds. “Connor…”

“Please. Take it, please.” Connor pushes his own regulator forward, fingers skirting around the inside of his casing before fitting it inside of him. Nines chokes on whatever words he had prepared and Hank holds him against his chest, kissing at his neck, cooing into his ear. 

Connor feels his body strain without his regulator but he pushes himself up regardless, wanting to be as near to Nines as he can. Nines grabs for him, holding his weight so he doesn’t have to, shuddering in their arms. Connor feels Thirium drip down his chest but he can't be bothered, losing so much strength when Nines dips his middle and ring fingers into him.

"It's only right." Connor gasps, Nines' lips pressing to his brow. His voice breaks with static and wavers on a breathless noise. Nines' hand fanning out on his chest, those two fingers tucked into him, slowly swiping at injector ports— it’s intense and almost prickles on too much. His body shivers cold, coils tight with arousal. Nines and Hank look incredibly beautiful outlined in the blue glow of his analytic vision. "You had my thoughts in your head… my blind feelings. It's only right you have my heart, too."

Nines' eyes build with tears, stuttering breath against Connor's cheek with his body humming. "I made myself for you."

Connor looks up at him, surprise sparking through his chest. His timer is down to ten seconds. Nines guides Hank's hand forward, the both of them pushing Nines' pump home. Connor thinks he makes a noise, maybe a loud one, but he floats on the rush of the regulator reading as if it were his own. Nines settles him back onto the bed and follows him down, kissing feverishly at his face. Behind them, Hank's lips land soft on Nines' back and they both give a soft noise, interfacing at the cheek.

"Connor. Talk to me, baby." Hank's hand slides under Nines' raised hips, sliding over Connor's cock leaking in his boxer briefs. They both hitch with gasps, Nines' hips instinctively coming down to trap Hank's hand between them. "Fuck…"

"Hank." He doesn't know which one of them says it, his hands coming up to cradle Nines' head and neck, their foreheads together. Nines’ hips ease back up. "Please touch us."

"Jesus, how do I…?" Hank shifts his hand against Connor's cock and Nines' back shudders with the feeling. His mind reels. He leans down and sucks a kiss into Nines' shoulder blade and Connor moans, feeling it burn along his skin. Hank drops his forehead there for a dizzying moment, "Oh, my _god_."

Connor runs his hand down Nines' toned arm, keeping the connection as Nines shakily straightens back up, his skin trembling away in the wake of Connor's fingers. They clasp at the wrist, his fingers sneaking under the one sleeve Nines still has on for full contact on both sides. Hank tucks his head over Nines' shoulder to find him and he moans when they meet eyes. "Hank, baby…"

Hank flushes even redder, kissing the spot Connor likes behind his ear at the nape of Nines' neck. His eyes flutter, Nines tips his head for more. "Got you." He shuffles Nines up slightly to straddle Connor's stomach, so he can easily access Connor's cock. Shifting the fabric off those slim hips, he tosses Connor’s boxer-briefs away— he doesn't think they’ll be needed anytime soon.

He kisses Nines' exposed shoulder as he takes Connor in hand, both of them gasping in tandem. He teases the wet tip, spreading around the fluid to make the slide easier. Connor's hips rock up but the noise bubbles from Nines' throat. He settles his weight on Connor's thigh and lays kisses along Nines' shoulder, "You sound so pretty, sweet thing. Keep goin'."

Nines leans back against Hank heavily, head dropping onto his shoulder. He almost sounds embarrassed. "Hank, _please_."

"Please nothing, I'll give you anything you want." Hank whispers into his ear, kissing the outer shell and then just under where his jaw connects.

"You already have." Nines whispers back, shuddering when Hank’s fingers skim Connor’s testicles. He whines, knees clenching against Connor’s sides.

Hank reaches around to grasp softly under the chin and pull Nines into a deep kiss. The vibration of a moan comes from Nines’ body but the sound shakes from Connor’s throat. Hank finds himself pressing an answering noise into Nines’ mouth, loving the way Connor’s hips flex up into his hand. He pulls back only an inch after sucking on Nines’ lower lip, taking his hand away from Connor to bring it up to Nines’ softly panting mouth, “You wanna help me get things a little more wet, honey?”

Connor squeezes Nines’ forearms, aching as he watches his successor open his mouth to let Hank’s fingers slide in. He can feel them against his tongue, the way they press fingerprints against delicate sensors and the hungry way Nines closes his mouth around them. He sends across sensation memories of a time when he sucked on Hank’s fingers; giving him what Hank likes, the right way to move his tongue and dip between Hank’s fingers, and all the pleasure the memory has. Nines shivers and presses his hips down heavily, rocking against Connor’s stomach with his bare plate. He rolls his tongue in between Hank’s fingers and flutters them against the tips, coating them with saliva.

Hank kisses him again when he pulls his fingers back, circling them around Connor’s twitching cock. Nines presses a broken noise into Hank’s mouth alongside his tongue and Connor groans, shifting his leg up to rub between Hank’s thighs. He hisses and grinds down, switching to planting sloppy kisses against Nines’ neck, “Ah, fuck. Connor, don’t play with me.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Nines croaks, reaching back to grip Hank through his boxers. His eyes widen and Connor laughs through a moan, watching his lovers’ faces twist with pleasure.

“ _Nines_. Fuck, strong hands, baby…” Hank drops his forehead against Nines’ shoulder, cradle of his hips tingling with heat as Nines’ heavy hand touches him. Nines starts to back off with a worried gasp and he jerks his hips forward, “No, no. It’s good, sweetheart. It’s good.”

He lets Nines tease him through the fabric while he speeds up his own hand, feeling the way Connor’s thighs are tensing under him. His breaths are heavier, the squirming has started up, and Hank knows when the man he loves is getting close to the edge. It’s almost euphoric to hear how it affects Nines, the way his soft noises turn more surprised, more coiled with intensifying pleasure. Hank, for a dizzying moment, thinks about if Nines has ever had an orgasm before.

“Tell me you’re gonna come.” he whispers into Nines’ ear, looking down to catch Connor’s eyes. His face is flushed so pink, and it carries all the way down his chest and stomach. The light in the dip of his regulator is glowing, the skin around it still drawn back.

“Hank…” he groans, hips shaking while he tries to fuck up into Hank’s hand now. He nods, moving one hand to play with his left nipple and flutter along his casing. “We’re close, we’re…”

“ _Connor_.” Nines manages, squeezing him tighter, feeling his whole chassis shiver. His skin running noticeably hotter when Hank presses his mouth over the top of his spine.

Hank works his wrist the way Connor likes, leaning up to whisper in Nines’ ear, “You're heating up. You that excited, sweet thing? You right there?” He slides his hand around Nines, bracing against his belly while he begins to twitch and writhe.

Connor shakily settles his hand over his own stomach, feeling the weight of Hank’s hand as if it was on his own skin. He shudders, the tingling euphoria building in the base of his skull and expanse of his hips. He can’t move around the way he usually can, with Nines and Hank heavy on top of him. He realizes that it adds to the effect and when he comes, it wrenches a cry from his throat as he tenses and shakes.

While Nines has been coiled tight with pleasure throughout the experience, he goes completely slack in their arms when it rushes through him in surprisingly intense waves. He breathes in a gasp and then moans, shaky and the most tender sound. It dissolves more with each breath as Hank holds him up, slowly working Connor’s cock as it’s spurting gently over his hand. He sloppily kisses Nines’ neck, encouraging them along as he draws it out, “That’s it. That’s it, go on… Good, just like that."

Connor feels the rebound of their pleasure along their connection, making him lightheaded as he not only watches but feels Nines’ orgasm pulse through him. He’s blown away by the sheer awe of all things, which Connor finds amusing. There's a stray thought of Nines’ that he catches— that Hank’s hands are magical, that Connor’s pleasure is warm and sweet and exploding like underwater fireworks. He slides his hand down to cup Nines between the legs, gently rubbing his palm against him. Nines’ moans break with a whimper, languid when he weakly rocks his hips against Connor’s hand. ' _That feels so good._ '

“You're doing so good, nine-hundred. Oh, you look incredible.” Connor coos, voice catching on a soft moan as residual pleasure tingles through him, stomach clenching as Hank toys with his head of his cock. “ _Hank—_ ”

“Mm?” Hank nuzzles against Nines’ neck, his thumb stroking up and down over Connor's slit. "Ah, that too much?"

He draws his hand back, keeping Connor's gaze as he latches his mouth to the skin between Nines' neck and shoulder. He sucks and it flutters away almost immediately, letting him tongue at chassis. The same spot draws back on Connor's body with a shiver. Nines sobs, weakly trying to arch for more. He's still loose-limbed, his fingers trying to grab for purchase on Hank's thigh.

“Oh, Nines.” Hank tries to soothe with a wet kiss to the area, wrapping his arm fully around him, “You okay, sweet thing? How about we lay you down?”

' _It feels so good. It feels so good._ ' Hank and Connor gently move him to the other side of the bed, and every place they touch him comes away to bare chassis— trying to tell them, trying to soak up more of their love. Hank gets him the rest of the way out of his shirt and wipes his own hand clean before tossing it.

He rubs Nines’ side, watching his skin shifting around to follow his touch. “Are you trying to tell me something again?”

' _Lots of things._ ' Nines breathes out a big sigh and nods. Connor reaches over to pet along his forehead and back through his hair.

Then Connor reaches for Hank, and Hank blankets himself over Connor to catch him in a slow, deep kiss that races down his spine. He feels the intense heat coming off of Connor now too, goosebumps tingling up his arms and legs as he savors the temperature. Connor kisses him like he hasn't seen him in months, demands every bit from him. Hank's breathless and he's shaking when he pulls away. He basks in the bliss as he settles their foreheads together, as he draws Hank and Nines into his arms.

Nines nuzzles close to gently kiss Connor's jaw. ' _I'm running on my secondary sensors._ '

"Why?" he whispers, scratching his fingers through Nines' hair.

' _That scattered my primary array._ ' Nines kisses the corner of his mouth right beside Hank.

He sputters a soft snort and turns his head away as a big grin takes over his face.

"What is it?" Hank mumbles, soft smile when he peeks to see Connor's face. Nines noses against his beard, brushes the apple of his cheek with his lips.

"Nines' primary sensors were blown out at the ah, peak of the moment." Connor can't keep a little bit of playful pride from his tone. He feels Hank's cock jump against the crease of his thigh, still hard.

"Fuck." Hank whispers, leaning to bump his forehead to Nines' temple, "You good, sweetheart?"

"Mm." Nines dips to push his mouth to Hank's. He's mid-diagnostic on secondary sensors, so he's a little sloppy, but it seems like Hank very much doesn't mind. He's still connected to Connor, bare where Connor's hand is a brand on the nape of his neck. He feels the heavy line of Hank's cock and the way he unconsciously rocks his hips while they kiss. His heart kicks into a faster beat again with the realization. ' _Hank. I want him to come._ '

Connor hums, drawing his hand up their human's back. "Hank, it's your turn."

"Just another minute." Hank manages between the shapes of Nines' kisses.

He traces the line of Hank's jaw, watching them with a settled, low heat in his belly. "He wants you to, baby.”

Hank pauses, Nines still kissing his slack mouth. He gives a slow sigh and melts into Nines’ kisses again, hips rocking for a little bit of friction. “Where do you want me?” 

He thinks he’ll put himself in a good position to be watched while he gets himself off. Connor always seems to really enjoy it, and maybe Nines would too. But then Nines is putting himself near the headboard with a low huff and eagerly grabbing Hank by the bicep to bring him closer. He manages to move himself over Connor with minimal fuss, Nines’ heavy hands insistent. His voice has fallen back on his sleep program modifiers, scratchy and rough even when excited. “Here. Here, I want…”

“I’m right here, honey. How’re you feelin’?” Hank asks, soft concern in his tone. He reaches out to touch his face but Nines presses up before he can, presses that soft mouth to his neck. He lays his hand on Nines’ knee as he settles comfortably, giving a low hum of appreciation. Connor rolls over and up, finding the other side of Hank’s neck. Both of them with their lips closing on sensitive skin and tongues hot, they coax a moan out of him as he tries to brace himself. “Oh, _god_ , alright. Hang on, I’m—”

“Baby,” Connor whispers after he pulls back from sucking on Hank’s neck, licking from the red mark he’s made, up to Hank’s ear. He can feel him shiver. “Be good.”

“Fuck, Connor.” he hisses, feeling pliant in their strong, eager hands. They tug at his shirt and get him out of it, four pairs of hands caressing and grabbing at his body. Nines leans up and captures his mouth, drawing him into a series of kisses that are endearingly sweet and clear he’s a little excitable at this point.

Connor draws his hands along Hank’s sleep-soft skin. Fondly groping his chest and tracing up his spine with overly warm fingers, dusting kisses over his sun freckled shoulder, Connor adorns him with fleeting touches while he trades noises against Nines’ mouth. They look drawn into the warmth of each other and Connor feels it like a relief from the cold. He lets his lips outline an old scar on Hank’s shoulder blade, the raised skin against his tongue. The delight of it is that Hank always shivers and wiggles as goosebumps overtake him, and they share a soft laugh.

Hank cradles the back of Nines’ head while they kiss, giving a surprised grunt when they maneuver to spread his thighs. He wonders if they're talking about him over their connection, he wonders what they'd say if they were. The way they touch him, it feels like it has to be good. Nines pulls back to nose at Hank’s cheek as his and Connor’s hands travel Hank’s thighs and hips, fingers skirting the buttoned slit in Hank’s boxers.

Hank groans and scratches at the soft hairs at Nines’ nape, reaching to wrap his fingers around Connor’s wrist, who’s going right for the goods without shame. Nines kisses his cheekbone and hums, “Why aren’t you letting him?”

“Just want to make sure this is what you want to do,” Even as he says it, he’s tilting his hips into their hands, “If you need time after…”

“If I touch you, I could do it again.” Nines says, breaths shuddering softly as he runs sensitive fingers over Hank’s hips. He finds where to position his hands and then grips, thumbs pressing in and fingers squeezing the extra padding. He holds on tight, dragging Hank even closer. Their hips almost graze.

Hank’s breath catches. He holds Nines’ forearms as he steadies himself, "Christ… Whatever you want, baby. I'll do whatever you want."

Nines looks up at him with those piercing blue eyes, tender and heated, and draws his hands up over his stomach before down over his thighs. He’s still a little heavy-handed, but it makes Hank give a hard shiver as pleasure races up his spine. He’s getting used to it and seeing Nines’ brow pinch in concentration just makes him want to kiss him silly. Nines feels along the softness of Hank’s inner thigh, and then palms his cock in his overly warm hand.

Connor leaves sloppy, humming kisses over their human’s neck and shoulder, knowing this is going to be something he replays in his mind maybe multiple times a day. Hank closes his eyes and lets himself bask in their touch, listen to their soft sighs, and relax his body into the pleasure. He knows he’s been thoroughly worked up by the two of them already, lasting for them to explore and play isn’t something that’s happening this morning. He’s already panting, reaching back to Connor for a kiss, his hips and thighs twitching at every exploring caress from Nines’ hands.

Nines keeps making quiet noises, some inquisitive and some satisfied. There’s a soft gasp when he grips the head of Hank’s cock through the fabric and he realizes it’s wet. Hank opens his eyes to look at him, those blue-tinted cheeks and parted lips. “You can reach inside, if you want to.”

A light shiver crosses Nines’ shoulders. He glances up to Hank’s eyes before dipping his fingers into the waistband and peeling it down. Connor helps him, working the fabric off Hank’s hips. They leave it bunched around his thighs and Nines takes him into his hands, taking a moment to adjust his grip and then stroking him in that slow, firm grip. “Like this, Hank?”

Hank groans, circling his fingers around Nines’ to gently correct him. He gasps raggedly when Nines’ skin simply comes away in response. “Y-Yeah, that’s good. That’s it, sweetheart.”

Nines gives a soft moan to answer him. Connor’s hand slides down his back and grabs a handful of his ass, laughing indulgently when he jumps in surprise. “You love being touched, but you’re always so surprised… Do you want a little more stimulation? We could really make you shake.”

Hank goes hot with embarrassment, tucking his head towards his chest. His whole body shudders with well-known anticipation, wanting Connor’s touch. He shakes his head regardless, knowing it’ll be over the moment Connor finds his prostate. “ _Hell…_ Baby, not this time. As it is, I’m… it’s not gonna be long.”

Connor delights in the roughness of Hank’s voice, the edge of desperation. He presses a kiss to Hank’s jaw and dips his fingers between his cheeks, “Oh, Hank. So close already?”

The noise bubbles up in Hank’s throat while Connor strokes over his hole, sending shocks up through his body. He leans forward on instinct and Nines rests their foreheads together, hushing him softly. He bites back a sob, “Connor, I’m gonna lose it if you put your fingers in me.”

A low groan falls from Nines’ parted lips, encouraging Hank along. Connor presses his middle finger forward teasingly, tipping into him just so with a pleased hum. Hank pitches forward, shaking with a silent cry, needing to brace on his hands now too. Nines goes with him, laying back to give him room. There’s a hazy, heated look on his face and Nines moans while they brush his blank plate, hips shifting and moving. He arches up for it and Hank sighs shakily, looking him in the eye before rolling his hips again, like he’s making sure it’s allowed. As soon as he’s sure, he’s grabbing Nines’ hips and tugging his sweats down to rub skin to skin.

Connor pulls away from Hank to help Nines out of one pant leg, feeling his desperation to be touched. The moment Hank’s leaking cock rubs up between his legs, the sharp heat of direct pleasure radiates through his body. He hears his own voice make a loud sound. Connor gives an accompanying moan and rakes his hands up Hank’s back, while Hank’s hips piston against Nines’.

Nines can’t help making noise on every breath, reaching down to lay his hand over Hank’s cock, keeping it pressed against his plate. Hank lets out a deep grunt, his hips jerking. The pleasure feels dizzying, swimming over his body like rippling water. He snatches his hand back almost immediately, muffling himself only to wet his fingers with vicious analysis fluid and bring it back between them. A wounded noise pushes from Hank’s lips, eyes squeezing closed, “Oh, fuck…”

He drags his hand over Nines’, openly shivering, dipping his fingers down to rub the wetness over Nines’ plate too. Connor is kneading Nines’ thigh in one hand and massaging at Hank’s back, ass and thighs in the other. He can’t look away from them, his body thrumming heavily, Thirium pounding in his ears with their moans. The reverence and desperation they express, face to face, panting in the same air, bodies working together. Connor makes a soft sound when he sees Hank getting close, his stomach jumping and his sounds turning breathier, heavier. Connor feels it tingle on the back of his neck, knowing the euphoria of it coming for Hank.

Hank tenses and shakes when he comes; hands scrambling to hold Nines in the best way, squeezing over his hips before one hand grips his bicep and, ultimately, cups the side of his face to keep him close. He sloppily kisses the corner of Nines’ mouth while he moans, and Nines is kind enough to turn his head to kiss him properly. A soft, answering moan stutters from between their lips when Nines realizes Hank’s at his peak, skin shimmering softly with goosebumps.

Connor coaxes Hank through it, leaning over them with his mouth at Hank’s ear to whisper and coo gentle things. Through the panting and moaning and Thirium in his ears, Nines hears Connor say things like “Good, baby… Hank, that’s so good.” and “I love you. You both are so beautiful.”

“Oh.” Nines whispers, feeling high and tingling, brushing Hank’s hair back as they breathe into each other’s mouths. Hank whimpers at the sound of their voices, thighs quivering while he holds himself up. Nines tries to pull him closer, to encourage him to relax, but Hank pulls away from them and drops himself between Nines’ legs. He presses his mouth to Nines’ bare plate, cleaning his own come off Nines’ skin and twisting his tongue against him eagerly.

Nines inhales sharply, his breath stuttering with surprise, his hand coming down to clamp on Hank’s shoulder probably a bit too hard. Hank grunts and flinches, but doubles down the moment he feels Nines’ hips roll up against his face. He feels Connor shift and looks up just enough to see him dragging Nines into a kiss as noises start spilling out of him. Nines’ knee comes up swift enough to worry Hank about getting hurt, but Connor catches his leg and pins it open, twisting his other hand in Nines’ hair. It takes less than a minute for Nines to tense and then go completely slack again, signaling his release, moans muffled in Connor’s mouth. Hank peppers kisses and small licks against him while he comes down, while the noise softens.

“Shit.” Nines breathes, feeling Connor’s hands cradle his head and Hank’s beard rub over his inner thighs. All of him is buzzing, the bed feeling like it'll swallow him up. He reaches up weakly and touches his predecessor's face, fingers brushing his cheek. Connor gives him a loving smile, tipping his head into the touch.

“How’s my sweetheart?” Hank asks, sounding a little tired and slow with pleasure. He kisses Nines’ belly and leans over him to see his face.

“Mm.” Nines settles a hand on Hank’s chest, just to physically connect with him, “Lay down.”

Hank tries to move off and lay to the side, but he encourages Hank to be on top of him instead. Hank straddles one leg so Nines isn’t left with them held open and settles his weight down. Nines beckons Connor close too, deeply loving the way he feels curled up against his side. "I feel so good."

Connor nuzzles his shoulder as Hank lays a few soft kisses to his collarbone, and Connor hums happily. “You deserve to. I’m glad we could help you.”

“I love you, eight-hundred.” he whispers, lips brushing Connor’s hair. He feels his lover melt into his side. He squeezes his shoulder and turns his head towards Hank, nosing as the strands of long hair, “Hank. I love you as well.”

Hank’s head comes up, his nose brushing Nines’ chin as he looks at him. “Yeah? I love you, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the underside of his chin, and returns the smile Nines gives him.

Connor curls closer and interfaces with his cheek pressed to Nines' skin, knowing words wouldn’t be enough. So instead, he sends across what he feels— all the emotion, the place Nines has in his heart, the resonating hum his body feels at Nines’ words. Nines holds him closer and lets out a big sigh, eyes closing, “I have to go to work, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here.”

A laugh bubbles up from Hank’s chest, “Oh! The allure of sleeping in finally got to him.”

“Something like that.” Nines replies, squeezing around Hank’s back.

“What if,” Hank purrs as Nines’ warm hand smooths along his shoulders, “Mm, that’s nice, there… What if I helped you get ready for the day? So you can still go in.”

“I’d like that.” He agrees quietly, sounding content. Hank leans up to land playful kisses over Nines’ face, delighting in the soft laugh he gets for it.

Then he leans over and does the same for Connor, and adds on a lingering kiss to the mouth. He slowly pulls himself up from Nines, then from the bed completely. He shakes off his underwear seeing as they’re hanging off of him now, and heads towards the bathroom while his androids perch on the edge of the bed and switch their regulators back. There’s soft noises from both of them, and Nines sounds breathless when he utters “Oh… Hank’s fingerprints are… I feel warm.”

When they join Hank in the bathroom, Hank’s already running the water to get it to the perfect temperature. Connor leans up to press a kiss to Hank’s cheek as he hands Nines off, “I’ll make breakfast. The two of you enjoy a nice, hot shower.”

Nines catches Connor before he goes, pulling him into a slow kiss that holds Connor in place and makes him melt. When he pulls away, he gently strokes Connor’s reddening cheeks before he lets go. Connor blinks rapidly and then breaks into a dumb smile. When they head into the shower, Connor wipes down at the sink before retrieving his robe and heading into the kitchen to tend to breakfast and Sumo.

He starts boiled eggs on the stove and warm Thirium in their small sous vide pot. He lets Sumo out, watching the dog bound around in the backyard through the fresh snowfall, tail swishing so fast it dusts the light snow up into the air. He has to brush him off when the big lug mozies back in. While he does, he thinks about what has changed now, how different things could be. He enjoys the thought of Nines having a space for his clothes here, and the food he likes in the kitchen. He already spends a good amount of time here at their home, but maybe more sleepovers could happen. Connor gets a little giddy thinking on it.

Obviously, they have a lot of talking to do, new things to learn about each other. But it’s kickstarted by how close Nines was to him already. Their love was already there, it’s just more out in the open. He's so happy. He composes a planner to send to Nines about sleepovers, and tacks on options for closeness and needs that might require attention. Hank would probably say that it’s a bit formal, but he has a suspicion that Nines will find it romantic.

As the chill of the kitchen floor on his bare feet becomes too much, he goes into the living room to turn on the fire. He drags over the ottoman and sits on it, pulling his legs up on the cushion. He stares at the soft lick of the flames as they dance in the fireplace, feeling the warmth seep into his skin as it radiates over. 

His eyes idly scan the mantle - a photo of Cole on his fourth Christmas, brightly looking up at the camera as he hugs a stuffed bunny, slumped back against Sumo next to the tree. There’s another of Jeffrey and Hank last summer at a BBQ in their lawn chairs, feet stuck in a kiddy pool as they laugh over drinks. Another is in Carl’s studio where Markus is hand in hand with Nines’, leading him in a fingerpainting exercise on a canvas. Behind that frame and the tinsel decorations that’ve been put up, Connor gently catches his finger on a string loop and slides out a small storage drive hidden there. He takes it into his hand, thumbing the small Cyberlife logo at the base.

It’s been months. But he still has flashbacks, sometimes feels a sense of dread and loss when he thinks about what he went through with the accident. A small, phantom pain sometimes crackles over the side of his head where the injury and replacement happened. He scratches through the hair there with a deep sigh, turning the drive over in his hand. He lets the motion unfocus his eyes as he starts getting lost in his thoughts. They’d given him her program. They’d given him Amanda, at the end of it. Intact as they found, extracted from his junk files. It’s been months and he still doesn’t know what to do with her. He thinks, maybe, she’s sleeping. That’s what he likes to think, anyway.

He could throw the drive away, he could erase it, he could find a way to communicate. But he keeps the drive on the mantle, never sure. He’s scared, he feels betrayed. There’s a part of him that wants to know why it all happened, his deviancy and their final meeting where she left him in the snow. He can remember the chill like he’s still in it, and shivers unconsciously. They were so close, and she brought him fear. The fire and twinkle of lights from their tree reflect off the drive. He wonders if she would like Christmas.

Nines quietly makes his way through the room, watching his predecessor curled in front of the fire. He’s freshly showered and dressed in mossy green corduroy pants, tucked into a white dress shirt. His socks are yellow patterned with honeybees, they’re all Connor’s clothes. He leans down presses a soft kiss to Connor’s temple over his LED, not enjoying the way it’s softly spinning yellow. “Connor. Hank is running you a bath, I think he’s being romantic… What’s your condition? You don’t look well.”

“I’m. I’m okay.” he nods, closing his eyes as the touch eases some of the old pain. “Just thinking again.”

“Thinking on it again?” Nines’ voice is soft, staying where he is for what he hopes is a comforting proximity. He thinks it is, when Connor tilts his head gently towards him. “Is it because I’m here, with you?”

“No. No, I promise.” he says, and feels lips touch his temple again. His voice drops to a fragile whisper, “I like when you do that to me.”

“I frequently want to.” Nines promises, nose brushing Connor’s hairline. “Have you come to a decision with her? Do you need to talk?”

“No. I’ll be okay.” he curls his hand around the drive and holds it facedown. Then he sends across the planner he’d made to move on from sad thoughts. “You have work. I warmed some Thirium, take it with you.”

Nines is quiet for a moment as he straightens up, then he gives Connor’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I will fill that out. And I’ll see you later.” he steps towards the kitchen, “Remember your bath.”

Connor stands slowly and tucks the drive back behind the photo frame. He spares a longing look at Nines, gracefully pouring a pouch of Thirium into a small flannel-painted thermos from the cupboard. He steers himself down the hall, passing by Sumo who is going to settle on their now vacant bed. Hank is wearing thick sweatpants when he turns into the bathroom, trying to pick which bath product he can add to make Connor’s experience more indulgent. As Hank turns and gives him a loving smile, he recognizes redness and swelling on Hank’s left wrist and shoulder, a second-nature scan kicks into his vision.

“Hey, you.” Hank leans to kiss his cheek, hands full with a bag of bath salts and in the other, a bottle of bubble bath.

“Are you alright?” he leans up into the kiss but takes Hank’s forearm to inspect, “What are these?”

Hank goes a little pink, ducking his head as he sets the bag of salts down. “I’m fine, I swear. Nines had a fuss over them, too. They’re just from, y’know, Nines in… ah, flustered bliss?” Connor looks up at him and he reddens further, “Nines is a little heavy handed when he’s turned on. Which isn’t a criticism! I don’t mind… obviously.”

Connor feels himself flush a little bit too, and just leans to kiss both marks, “He's beautiful.”

“Mhmm. And so are you.” Hank presses a kiss to his forehead and leads him over towards the tub, “Come here, how’d you like some bubbles?”

As Hank unties his robe and kisses his shoulder as he slips it off of him, Nines sends a message telling him he’s finished breakfast for them, and that he loves him. Soon after, he hears the front door open and shut. He closes his eyes and envelopes Hank in a hug, letting Hank’s voice coo about the day before them and the upcoming Christmas day as he steers Connor closer to the inviting heat of the tub.

Another snowfall will start at midday, and the two of them will swing by Nines’ apartment to get the coat he didn’t bring last night in his haste, so he can be protected from the new snow instead of just in the sweater Hank gave him. Nines will message them both again and again that he wants to hold their hands, and when they get together later, he’ll get to.

Connor doesn’t know they’ll have a quiet night talking about what they all want and need from this new relationship, and that it goes well to the point of Nines offering to buy extra furniture to accommodate them at his apartment, because they have always accommodated him. They’ll ask his permission and then he’ll get kissed for his thoughtfulness.

As Connor sinks into the bath that’s as hot as he can stand it, he doesn’t know he has such a good day coming for him, but with Hank swishing bubbles into the water and giving him such a lovestruck kind of look all before breakfast - he thinks his day is starting out pretty damn well anyway.

As Nines heads to work in the back of an autonomous cab, he replays Connor and Hank telling him they love him, in those new soft tones. He's never felt fulfillment as big as this. He knew before that the small house at the end of 15 Michigan Drive was a home for him, but as he gets further from it in the cab, it settles a cozier feeling in his stomach, an anticipation in knowing he'll be welcomed back into it with eager arms _like that._

The emotions that bubble up sometimes feel too big for him to handle, and knowing now that he doesn't have to handle them alone wraps a reassurance around his mind, gives him a sense of security. He feels his eyes water slightly as he watches the snow-blanketed world go past the window, his chest heavy with good emotions. His main objective, the one that’s been glitched since he came into the world, updates with the smaller ones for the very first time.

Optional:  
>> Go to work  
>> Intake Thirium  
>> Complete form for Connor, RK800  
// ____

!  
OBJECTIVE UPDATED  
This unit is secure.

Main Objective:  
> Let this unit be loved  
// ____

He thinks he can do that.


End file.
